One and Only, Right?
by Xenia van Hausen
Summary: Just when Shizuo thought getting married would set his life in a better direction and be rid of Izaya, he starts to find out more about the raven that he never knew...why can't he ever get Izaya out of his life?
1. Chapter 1

October 7, 2011

**New story-a fill for the DRRR! Kink Meme.**

**Prompt: **_Shizuo is marrying some woman he's been dating for a while now (Can be an original character/some character from a different anime, even)._  
><em>He invites everyone he knows to the wedding. Including Izaya.<em>  
><em>AND THEN ONE SIDED SHIZAYA HAPPENS.<em>  
><em>I wanna see Izaya losing it. I wanna see ANGST. I wanna see Izaya sadder than he's ever been.<em>

_Bonus:_  
><em>-Izaya going to Shiki for comfort (And tries to hide the fact that he's freaking sad and wants to cry 247)_  
><em>-Izaya asking Shiki to come with him to the wedding cause he can't go alone and there's no way in hell that he's missing it.<em>  
><em>-Angst. Like, maximum level of ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST.<em>

**Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara!**

***This story will end as Shizaya, even if it'll take me a while to develop it.* (Personal headcanon: angst is that much more delicious if you go through the one-sided feelings and actually develop the relationship.)**

* * *

><p><strong>One and Only, Right?<strong>

_Bam!_

Izaya blinked, snapping out of his reverie. Lifting his eyes, his gaze met a certain brunette's, though the latter's was not as nonchalant.

Keeping his fingers delicately interlocked, elbows propped on the armrests of his sleek swivel chair, legs gracefully placed on the side of the modern desk, Izaya upheld his beautiful mask of being better than anyone else.

"Namie-san, what's the matter?"

"What's the matter!" Namie growled through her gritted teeth. "Quit slacking off and do your part of the job! I am not staying overtime and covering for you." Her eyes squinted into slits as she enunciated the last few words for emphasis. She jerked her arms off her hips and spun around, heading back to her seat on the couch, sleek and modern, matching all the other expensive furniture in the informant's high-class abode.

Izaya watched Namie's long hair twirl as she turned her back to him, sighing after she took a few steps away.

He reached for the files that were slammed onto his desk and flipped through them absentmindedly. His mind was elsewhere, treading on disputed territory once again, as it did the past two days.

Izaya found himself thinking of the same thing again. Upon realization, he jerked his legs off the table and straightened himself. Staring blankly at the computer screen, he picked up his pile of files, thumped them against the desk so that they were neatly aligned, and set them in front of his keyboard.

Unknowingly, he stared down at the papers as all thought flew out of his brain.

…

_What was I going to do?_

He glanced up at the dark desktop—it had gone to sleep—and back down to the files.

_Oh, right._

With a sweep of the mouse, the informant awoke his computer and began typing, looking at the files from time to time.

For about seven minutes, the only sound resonated from the furious click-clack of Izaya's keyboard. The steadiness of that and the otherwise complete silence drowned everything out of the raven-haired man's mind.

_This is from…_

He glanced down at the file.

_Ikebukuro._

His elegant fingers came to a halt, and his crimson eyes grew wide at the word. A flood of mixed emotions flickered through his reddish-brown orbs while his whole body froze, paralyzed.

He couldn't think.

What was he doing?

_I don't know._

His mind ran through a jumble of thoughts, all of them incoherent, yet related.

_I don't know anymore…_

He didn't realize as his fingers clenched tightly.

_I—I can't. Not when Namie's—_

Izaya jolted out of his sudden immovability.

_Where was I?_

_Oh, the information. I need to finish this._

Trying to shove the thoughts out of his mind, Izaya glued his eyes to the screen, but he was unable to prevent himself from peering down at the word "Ikebukuro" for a few intermittent split seconds.

The evening passed in that manner—Namie staying quiet, doing her work, and ignoring Izaya while the latter typed away on the keys—and when Namie looked up at the clock to see the hands showing that it was six, she sighed in relief. Packing her bag, she organized her work, walked over to her boss, said a quick, "I'm leaving," and was out the door just as quickly.

The click of the lock echoed in the silent room.

After blanking out for a few seconds, Izaya exhaled deeply and leaned back in his comfy chair. His arms hung limp at his side as he threw his head back. Inattentively, his legs slowly spun him around.

Now that Namie was gone, no one was there to see him in such a humiliating state.

Unable to concentrate, unable to think of anything else…unable to forget and accept.

Izaya closed his eyes, and he can remember everything so vividly, stabbing at his heart and being each passing second.

_Why…?_

_Why…didn't I know that this would happen someday?_

_At least when…I saw them grow closer…each passing day._

A painful tug of his heart made him grab at his chest.

With an unreadable expression, Izaya pressed the power button on his desktop and stood up. Mechanically, his legs carried him away from his desk and into that dark place of his apartment, where his bed was located. He barely realized that he had reached his room until he crawled under the covers, wrapping himself, in an effort to warm up.

From what?

What was he warming up from?

Certainly, it was cold. Outside, the temperature was definitely chilly. Inside, Izaya's apartment was never warm. No, not with the coldness of the only two who were ever there.

That was not the case, though.

Izaya shivered from the temperature. Yet, he also trembled from the inside out. That frozen heart of his throbbed in pain as it began to crack…

It was already shattered before it froze over.

Now, in its state, crushed and frozen, a crack was splintering.

How much more can he take before he can feel warmth again?

How long will it take for him to find the light once more?

How can he—

_It's always like this._

The raven-haired man pulled his knees up and hugged himself close.

_I don't need anyone._

He interlaced his fingers and held tight.

_I've survived this long._

His fingers started to hurt.

_What bullshit they say...I don't need anyone to live. I'm fine alone._

He released his hard grasp and relaxed his legs and arms. Stretching out his legs, Izaya moved one hand and clutched the side of his pillow.

_I…_

_I thought…_

He sighed and turned to lie on his back, throwing one hand on his forehead.

_Pathetic._

_This is pathetic._

I'm _pathetic._

Pause.

_I only wished that he'd…_

A lone tear slid down the side of his face, tickling his ear.

The complete silenced droned in his ear as he lay ambivalent in his half-consciousness.

Finally, slowly, the sweet clutches of sleep took over—yet, was his sleep truly "sweet"?

.

Izaya's eyelids flew open, blind in the darkness of the night. His room was completely black, except for the small blinking light from where his cell phone was charging on his bedside drawer. He wondered briefly why he awoke; the confusion gradually slipped away.

The raven-haired man was lying on his side, facing his cell phone. As unconsciousness left him each passing second, the uncomfortable stiffness of his cheeks called for his attention. Lifting his free hand—the one he wasn't laying on—to wipe at the dried tears, Izaya remembered that he had inevitably let out those displays of weakness.

For the past two days, ever since he received _that_ invitation…he had been…well, to say the least, 'out of it.' But seriously? Orihara Izaya—the great _Orihara Izaya_, unable to do his job correctly?

Yes.

Every time he tried to push the thoughts out of his mind, they would come rushing back at the slightest trigger. It nearly drove him insane. He would find himself sitting at his chair, leaned back, either with his eyes closed or staring at the ceiling. Once, even when he was meeting with a client, he drifted off into another parallel universe while the man across from him kept talking, then repeated a few "Um, Orihara?" until he was jolted back by Namie's annoyed "Ahem" and purposefully loud _clunk_ of the cup as she set it down in front of him.

Immediately, he regained his poise and replied with, "Oh, I'm sorry Tanaka-san; you said you wanted information on your rival companies?"

Thus, the conversation reverted back to business.

Every day was bland and boring—too methodical—for Izaya's liking. Even as an informant, dealing with all these different people, meddling with all these controversial topics, Izaya never felt satisfied, which is one reason why he perpetually screwed things up: organized gang wars, framed criminals, anything.

A reason why he worked for Awakusu-kai.

Why he incessantly…pranced around Ikebukuro.

.

"Black coffee, sir?" The young girl behind the counter questioned hesitantly.

"Yes, that's what I said, wasn't it?" The raven-haired man's voice was friendly enough, along with his flawless smile; yet, his words had a certain sting to it.

"Of-of course." Mid-length, brown bangs dropped in front of the flustered girl's face as she looked down at the register to take the order. Her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and a light brown bandana was secured around the top of her head. An apron the color of dark chocolate wrapped around her body, tied once neatly around her neck and another time around her waist and back. The café newly opened a few months ago near Izaya's apartment, but he never really took the time to try it out. Well, he didn't like sweets in the first place, so much less incentive for him to come.

"That will be a total of 284 yen, sir, or would you like anything else?" Their eyes met, and after staring into those inquiring hazel eyes for a few seconds, Izaya glanced up at the menu, scanned the list of sweets, desserts, and other foods they offered, and took a quick glimpse at the adjacent bakery cabinet then at the display racks at the far wall. The bakery was well-furnished and gave off a comfortable, cozy feeling. The walls were painted a creamy, vanilla color, while the logos, uniforms, and furniture matched with a dark, coffee tint. Lights shone from the ceiling, small and a bright whitish-yellow. Turning his gaze back to the girl in front of him, Izaya said, "I would…"—a slight hesitation—"actually like to try a cinnamon bun."

"Sure, no problem." She punched some buttons, looked up, and asked again, "Is that all, sir?"

"Yes, it is."

"Okay, then, your total now is 373 yen. Oh, thank you," she added as Izaya handed her a 500 yen coin. "Would you like me to heat the cinnamon bun for you?" She patiently waited for Izaya to decide.

_Does it taste better that way? _"Well, yes, please." _Why not?_

"Okay, great. Please wait a moment and your coffee and cinnamon bun will be ready. Thank you. Here's your receipt." She had kept a smiling face the as she took Izaya's order, vaguely noting how the pale, lean face seemed tired, how the skin below the eyes was darkened. He tended to pause a few seconds each time before replying, his eyes unfocused, as if he forgot where he was and what he was doing.

"Thank you…" He reached for the thin piece of paper and instinctively walked over to the side counter to wait for his coffee to be finished. Staring at nothing in particular, Izaya looked through the large glass at the front of the café and watched the ordinary flow of people outside. At seven in the morning, the sky was still dark. Dense, gray clouds loomed over Shinjuku, releasing drops of rain here and there, but never steadily nor heavily. The people walking to work or wherever their destination was carried umbrellas above their heads as a precaution, since the dark clouds did not look promising.

"-rihara-san. Orihara-san," Izaya snapped his head in the direction of voice, "your drink and bun is ready."

"Ah, thank you."

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

October 15, 2011

**Prompt: **_Shizuo is marrying some woman he's been dating for a while now (Can be an original character/some character from a different anime, even)._  
><em>He invites everyone he knows to the wedding. Including Izaya.<em>  
><em>AND THEN ONE SIDED SHIZAYA HAPPENS.<em>  
><em>I wanna see Izaya losing it. I wanna see ANGST. I wanna see Izaya sadder than he's ever been.<em>

_Bonus:_  
><em>-Izaya going to Shiki for comfort (And tries to hide the fact that he's freaking sad and wants to cry 247)_  
><em>-Izaya asking Shiki to come with him to the wedding cause he can't go alone and there's no way in hell that he's missing it.<em>  
><em>-Angst. Like, maximum level of ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST.<em>

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 2:  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Izaya grabbed his cup of black coffee and wrapped cinnamon bun.<p>

He stood there and paused again, wondering if he should just leave or actually sit down in the bakery. Peering out into the sky, he decided that staying inside for ten minutes or so wouldn't be all that bad.

He and three others were the only customers present, for the day was still early, it was a weekday, and the weather wasn't particularly enchanting.

Finally, he walked over to a table by the window in front of the shop and sat.

The strong, bitter aroma of coffee wafted from his cup and he remembered to take a sip. The bitterness awakened his senses, prompting Izaya to continue drinking.

As he sat there, the soft hum of the music in the café along with the shuffling of the workers behind the counter provided him with some distraction for his keen sense of observation.

If he had sat at home alone, surely his mind would go crazy.

Last night, he had woken up at three in the morning; despite his efforts to resume sleeping, the world of unconsciousness cruelly evaded him.

For over an hour, the informant tossed and turned in his bed, finally giving up on getting any more sleep and settled with lying on his back with his arm over his forehead.

He heaved a sigh and let his thoughts run wild. Images from two days ago flashed through his head, vivid enough to create the illusion that Izaya was reliving that time, when the news was delivered to him.

.x.

_Two days ago._

Namie sullenly worked at the coffee table, as always. Izaya reviewed some new information for a client that was coming in the evening, typing away at his keyboard, flicking from one screen to another on his monitor.

The day had been fairly normal, save for the vehement stranger that burst into the informant's office claiming that Izaya ruined his life.

How? Well, it was something along the lines of "my wife left me, all because of you! Now I get fired from my job and kicked out of my apartment, and I'm swamped in debt! All because of you! You fucking motherfu—"

Before he could finish that sentence, security had dragged him away.

Izaya merely gave the man a quick sweep of the eye—it nearly bordered on irritation—before he returned his gaze to his computer.

Namie looked up from her work, glanced over at Izaya, and resumed her organizing with a "hmph"; it can easily be translated into: "What'd you do now? Just don't give me any more trouble than you already do."

Izaya understood Namie's meaning, opting, instead, to ignore it and continue with his own work. Not ten minutes had passed when another knock sounded at the door and Namie groaned softly—and irritably—as she stood up to allow another client in.

Izaya expected the usual distant mumbles of greetings, formalities and the taps of the soles of shoes as they approached his desk, but silence filled his ears.

Lifting his head to find out what caused the abrupt change of routine, Izaya froze first from shock, then from confusion.

"Dotachin?"

The beanied-head turned in the direction of the informant. His expression was guarded, appearing not unlike a child who ate all the cookies, wanted to confess due to guilt, yet was also afraid of the possible punishments and scolding.

With his hands in his coat jacket, Kadota nodded slightly and said a nonchalant, "Hey," although a hint of tension was evident.

Namie had already started walking back to her seat, with Kadota hesitantly following a few steps behind.

"How may I help you, Dotachin?" The informant's voice was full of amusement; Kadota swore Izaya planned to tease him to no end, but even worse was the imminent change in attitude Kadota knew was going to come.

Now _that_ was scary. An even more unpredictable Izaya…Kadota shuddered at the thought.

"Well, Izaya, I have something important that I have to tell you." He sunk into the sleek, black sofa across from Namie and reached a hand on top of his head.

Izaya frowned at the uncomfortable expression of his former classmate.

"I expected as much." He stared at Kadota from behind his desk. He stood there, one hand propping him up as he placed more weight on one leg.

Kadota was fully aware of the other's unwavering scrutiny, but he refused to meet it. Scanning the apartment, he tried to appear casual.

"So? What is it that you need to tell me?"

Kadota inwardly sighed.

His gaze landed on the coffee table. He glanced sideward briefly at Izaya. "Well, you see…how should I put this…" His eyes dropped and he struggled with his thoughts and words.

Izaya stared at Kadota for another ten seconds, straightened, and strolled over to the sofa where Dotachin and Namie sat.

As he walked, he said, "Namie, you can leave early today."

The highly intelligent woman shot her boss a glare before diligently packing away her materials. She said nothing even as she got up and shut the door behind her.

Kadota watched the secretary disappear in mild confusion. When he heard the soft "fshh" of the couch as Izaya sat down was when his attention returned to the topic at hand.

The raven leaned back, brought his hands together, and repeated, "Now tell me, what is it that you came all the way here for?"

"Yes…" Kadota pulled his beanie off. "I'm here on behalf of someone, but that's not all. I'm here to give you my own advice, if you're willing to listen, that is." He propped his elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched, giving off a tense image.

Izaya contemplated the other's words and posture for a minute.

When he opened his mouth to continue the conversation, Kadota abruptly interjected, "But before you pry me about this, let me explain." He tilted his head up and looked Izaya straight in the eye. "And explain it bluntly. I know you don't like people sugarcoating things."

Izaya held the gaze, expressionless. Kadota paused, seemingly in conflict as to deciding whether resuming would actually be a 'good' idea.

Although Izaya didn't know what Kadota planned to tell him, he tensed with a feeling of dread. The seconds ticked by painstakingly slow in the silence.

"Shizuo's getting married."

The three-lettered sentence punched him. _Hard_.

His mind refused to register it.

Kadota watched cautiously as he saw ephemeral flickers of emotions across the informant's face—shock, incredulity, confusion, comprehension, defeat, and finally, nothing. As quickly as the vast amount of emotions came, Izaya had secured his perfect mask of nonchalance.

"Is that so?"

This time it was Kadota's turn to stare. "Yes…yes. They're engaged, definitely. He told me that their plans for the wedding are sketchy right now, and nothing's set. One thing's for sure, though—they want it next year, around May."

Kadota waited rigidly for Izaya to display some type-any type-of reaction. After a seemingly long pause, Izaya murmured, "Nine months, huh?" Rather than conversationally, Izaya's question was more of a mumble to himself.

.xx.

A child, clad in school uniform and a bright hat, ran down the street across from the café, shaking Izaya out of yet another reverie.

Stopping abruptly, the boy twisted around excitedly, leaned forward, cupped his hands to his mouth, and shouted something happily.

Two other kids came running down, trying to catch up. Their backpacks flopped from side to side as they ran, hands flinging awkwardly at their sides. As the two approached, the boy in front turned around and sprinted off, laughing merrily.

Behind him, his friends shouted what might have been, "Wait up!" and splashed through the puddles to catch up. Izaya suspected that they were racing to daycare, or something similar, and that their parents were going to work today.

Unable to remove his attention from the three oblivious kids, Izaya remembered his own childhood—dark, cold, and bitter like the weather today…

.x.

Since young, Izaya was ostracized by classmates and family, all the same. His parents were never home, and when they were, they pushed him and his sisters aside.

At school, his teachers whispered amongst each other about how eccentric 'that raven-haired kid with those glowing crimson eyes' was. His schoolmates laughed at him and, at first, tried throwing rocks at him.

They ran away in fear, crying for their 'mommies' once Izaya returned the favor with his heinous smirk, yet his eyes were unreadable—a mix of pain, grief, longing, hatred, confusion…defeat.

_Why?_

_Why do they fear me so much?_

Izaya had stood there, in the playground, looking down at his stretched shadow behind the setting sun.

_Did I do something wrong?_

_Why am I so different?_

He didn't understand. He _couldn't_ understand.

That day, he remained in that same spot, same playground, until the moon rose above him and the street lights flickered on.

_If they can't love me,_ he thought, _then I will love for them._

His expressionless face twisted into a mirthful grin while his eyes twinkled with glee...yet the depths of his crimson orbs reflected otherwise.

_I will love all of humanity—every single one—because I am above them._

Soft, black hair fell in front of his face as he lifted his head.

_They can't love me since they are unable to understand. I won't blame them._

Izaya stood poised and with renewed confidence.

_From now on, humans will entertain me with their struggles to live, to feel important. They will become my toys._

.xx.

The iridescent lights of Ikebukuro shone in their full glory as the bustling crowds of people rushed past ceaselessly.

On the side of the streets, salespeople talked furiously and overly joyful as they shoved flyers in front by passers who irritably tried to be polite as they pushed the papers away. High school girls giggled loudly, ignoring the late hour and other people around them. Gang members strolled aimlessly through the full streets, arms stuffed in their pockets, glaring at anyone and everyone in an attempt to appear intimidating. Some ignored them while others shrunk away, trying to prevent trouble.

Among this huge throng of people, an inconspicuous raven-haired man walked along, mixing in with the scenery.

Arms stuffed in the pockets of his favorite fur-trimmed coat, he strolled through the busy night city. He bounced along the streets, light on his feet, yet his expression did not contain a hint of its usual amusement.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Short explanation: .x. means I'm going to talk about the past._

_.xx. means we're done with that small time-skip and back in the present._

_A simple . means I went forward a bit in time, such as a few hours, or from morning to the evening, etc. Still present time._


	3. Chapter 3

October 23, 2011

**Prompt: **_Shizuo is marrying some woman he's been dating for a while now (Can be an original character/some character from a different anime, even)._  
><em>He invites everyone he knows to the wedding. Including Izaya.<em>  
><em>AND THEN ONE SIDED SHIZAYA HAPPENS.<em>  
><em>I wanna see Izaya losing it. I wanna see ANGST. I wanna see Izaya sadder than he's ever been.<em>

_Bonus:_  
><em>-Izaya going to Shiki for comfort (And tries to hide the fact that he's freaking sad and wants to cry 247)_  
><em>-Izaya asking Shiki to come with him to the wedding cause he can't go alone and there's no way in hell that he's missing it.<em>  
><em>-Angst. Like, maximum level of ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST.<em>

**Disclaimer: I do not own Durarara!**

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 3:**_  
><em>

* * *

><p>Izaya had no idea how long he was out for.<p>

All he remembered was that when he left his apartment in Shinjuku, the sun was just starting to set. Now, as he aimlessly walked the streets of Ikebukuro, the moon already claimed its throne high up in the dark sky.

Unknowingly, his legs brought him to the corner of a sushi place he routinely visited; seeing it tonight made reality hurt so much more…that place, full of vivid memories…full of times when…

"Sushi good!"

Simon, like usual, stood outside Russia Sushi passing out flyers and talking in his choppy Japanese, attempting to lure in customers.

"Oh! I-Za-Ya! Eat sushi to-dAY?" A smile adorned his face.

"Ah, Simon." Izaya considered dinner very briefly. "No, not today. I'll see you next time." He began to turn away, when the large Russian man suddenly reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Not eat no good! Eat sushi good for you!" His forehead creased slightly as he stared right into Izaya's eyes. When he spoke, he had switched to Russian. "Izaya, you look even skinnier than usual. Are you not eating?"

Izaya stared back silently.

"Come in and eat a little bit." The strong hand squeezed Izaya's bony shoulder.

"Alright, alright, Simon." Izaya shifted his weight, balancing himself better as Simon removed his hand, an even bigger smile covering his face.

"Good! Eat sushi good for you!" Reverted to Japanese again.

As Izaya let himself be eagerly ushered into the restaurant, his expression dropped for a split second, revealing just how exhausted and conflicted he was.

"Oh, Izaya! Welcome!"

"Hey Dennis." He pulled a chair out in front of the bar and carefully slipped into his seat.

"The usual?" The sushi chef looked sideways at Izaya while he wiped his hand to prepare the next order.

The informant leaned back in his chair and sighed, "Yes, ootoro please."

"Right on it."

Sounds of soft chattering of the other costumers mixed with the clinks from the kitchen filled Izaya's ears. He paid no attention, yet his mind settled on no one train of thought.

He didn't know how much time passed until the sudden hush throughout the shop broke the comforting atmosphere, pulling Izaya attention back to reality.

He tensed in his seat, paralyzed in his position when he caught a glimpse of a familiar bartender suit and Simon greeted heartily, "Shi-Zu-O! You two eating sushi to-dAY? Good, good! Come eat sushi!" He bent down and pushed away the awning.

Izaya stared at the entryway, eyes growing in terror and disbelief.

Locks of blind hair dipped down and into the sushi bar. Then came the bartender outfit—the fitted white shirt, the bowtie, the black slacks. As the man straightened, Izaya finally saw those sunglasses with the bluish tint.

His heart contracted laboriously when he saw the lean body step out from behind the blonde ex-bartender. Maybe, just maybe, he hoped that he could see Shizuo alone—without that girl next to him, constantly reminding the raven of the horrible pain.

Then, maybe Shizuo would pay attention to him again.

Maybe Shizuo would have eyes only for him again.

Maybe…they'll go back to how it was.

Finally, Shizuo lifted his head, eyes landing immediately on his arch nemesis, body stiffening. The blond Russian beauty beside him stood perfectly still, expression blank, indifferent.

_He would have known earlier than that…_

The entire population within the store froze, afraid that even a miniscule amount of movement was enough to detonate the ticking bomb.

"Izaya," Shizuo drawled, attempting to control his instinct to pounce on the small, agile man.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya said in acknowledgement. He successfully appeared nonchalant, pompous as usual.

His perfect mask that never betrayed him was loyally doing its duty.

Simon smoothly placed himself as a barrier between the two, stepping in front of the debt collector, cheerfully—the mirth of the big Russian was incongruous in this situation—suggesting potential delectable dishes Shizuo and his partner might want to try that night.

Shizuo absentmindedly answered Simon and asked his fiancée if she knew what she wanted to eat. The whole time, his eyes thwarted towards the general direction of where Izaya sat, body tense, but still more relaxed than a few seconds ago.

_He would have known I was here even from a mile away…_

The clack of the traditional-looking sushi plate on the table—Izaya had unconsciously leaned his body on it—grabbed his attention.

"Here you go: tuna." Dennis's voice was carefree and undisturbed.

Instinctively, Izaya exclaimed in ecstasy, "Ah! Ootoro! Thank you, Dennis." He appeared to be completely engrossed in pulling the chopsticks out of their paper slips, but all of his senses tuned in towards his left—where Shizuo stood. Out of the corner of his eye, he focused on the outline of the tall debt collector, trying to catch every movement, to decipher anything that might give Izaya a deeper insight of that man who controlled his whole being.

Unnoticeable to anyone, Izaya stiffened when he felt Shizuo pass by behind him, with Simon taking the lead and Shizuo trailing in the back, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses and hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants.

When Shizuo was at Izaya's immediate right, he halted in his steps.

_Damn it, no._

"Vorona,"—Izaya's heart contracted—"Go on ahead. I'll meet you in there."

The tall blonde reached out and slipped the Russian woman's hand into his, giving it a light squeeze before letting go.

_No._

Vorona's eyes did not waver, yet as they stared into Shizuo's, the unspoken understanding between the two was obvious.

_The both of you...hurry up and get away from me. _

_No more._

_I don't want to see this. _

"Yes. I'll wait for you." She turned and followed Simon into one of the dining rooms.

The hushed silence of the restaurant had been replaced by suppressed mumbled, the customers having remembered their manners and tried in vain to be discreet as they cautiously glimpsed at the two monsters of Ikebukuro.

"Izaya."

Said man did not reply, '_blissfully'_ savoring the taste of ootoro in his mouth.

"_I_-za-ya," Shizuo repeated, this time with more force as he pushed one hand against the table, half-leaning over it.

_Stop it._

Carelessly rolling his eyes over to the blonde, Izaya spoke after deliberately chewing, then swallowing, a mouthful of the fatty tuna. "Why, what is it, Shizu-chan?"

The latter clenched and unclenched his fist, taking a few breaths to control his irrepressible temper whenever the conniving informant was within his radius.

By the time his brain was finally capable of moving his lips to form a sentence, Izaya had already plucked another slice of the glistening red fish meat off the plate and brought it to his lips, expression of complete delight.

"Izaya, come out. I need to speak with you."

"Ay, Shizu-chan. As you can tell, I'm enjoying my dinner right now~" His tongue slid out under the ootoro, glazed with a beautiful shine.

Shizuo's eyebrow twitched. He looked over at Izaya's plate, and considering that the scrawny man was almost finished, he grudgingly yanked out the chair next to Izaya—a loud scraping sound pierced through the room as the chair protested against the hardwood floor—and sat down harshly.

Izaya refused to acknowledge Shizuo's presence and obstinate persistence. To everyone in the restaurant, Izaya was clearly ignoring the blonde.

To Izaya, he was doing nothing _but_ be overly conscious of the conspicuous man beside him.

Six minutes passed as Shizuo unhappily sat beside Izaya and stared at nothing in particular, the ghost of a crease haunting the blonde's forehead.

After what seemed like an eternity—both feeling like it was hell for wholly different reasons—Izaya set his chopsticks down and hummed, "Ah, ootoro, how I love you."

_Hah…what if I didn't say that first part?_

Immediately, Shizuo straightened and slid to the edge of the side of his seat. "Okay, flea, let's go."

"What's the hurry, Shizu-chan?" Izaya reached for his wallet as Dennis placed the tray with the bill in front of him. "Now that I don't have to worry about being maimed by unexpected flying objects—exceedingly dangerous, must I say;" He placed the exact amount of yen down into the tray and handed it to Dennis; "I would very much like to take my time here in dear Ikebukuro," he smirked.

Shizuo slammed his hands on the table and abruptly stood up, propelling the chair backwards, squeaking and collapsing to the side.

He forcefully grabbed Izaya's arm and wrenched him up, dragging him from the sushi bar.

"Whoa! Wait, Shizu-chan!"

"Dennis, tell Vorona I'll be right back and I'm sorry!" Shizuo called behind his back, not breaking his stride.

The debt collector stormed out of the restaurant with an extremely irritated expression as the informant stumbled behind, desperately trying to keep from looking flustered and helpless.

* * *

><p>"Louse, did Kadota talk to you?"<p>

"Yes, he did, Shizu-chan." Izaya thanked his luck that they were in a dark alley right now.

"So—um, I am trying to—uh, get on better terms with you," Shizuo stuttered.

"Oya! Shizu-chan, the one who hates me down to my atomic core, who would rather I die a hundred times over, who couldn't care less if I get mobbed by the yakuza, wants to _reconcile_with me?" His voice sounded confident enough...but…

Shizuo felt a vein twitch near the temple of his head.

_Calm down, calm down. You promised…_

Inhaling a deep breath, Shizuo replied as he exhaled, "Lou—Izaya," the name was stressed, "I'm trying very hard right now, so I ask that you _please_ cooperate." Despite his efforts, his stance remained tense and stiff.

"My, Shizu-chan, you're quite serious~"

_Please, don't notice that._

Izaya rambled on, desperately trying to hide the wavering of his voice.

"What was her name again? That Russian assassin. Oh, Vorona." He let out a shaky chuckle. "I'm glad, Shizu-chan!" He flung his arms out wide. "I hope she assassinates you soon! Then I won't have an annoying brute who always ruins my plans." The last few words fluctuated in tone-from high to low...anger to defeat...malice to...helpless.

If one paid close enough attention, he would have easily detected it, but no; the Fortissimo of Ikebukuro had little to no observation skills when infuriated.

_Don't, don't, don't, oh please don't. Not now, don't notice the damned trembling._

Shizuo clenched his fists tightly together, grinding his foot on the poor cigarette that smacked against the ground two seconds ago. He heaved a deep breath shakily, lest he loses his temper and repeats history again, like so many times before-chasing Izaya down in attempted murder.

Izaya stared sideways, hands clenched onto the soft fabric inside his coat pocket.

"Fuck!" The wall dividing the alleys collapsed in a big roar. Izaya shut his eyes at the sound-he was used to it, but...this time Shizuo left him.

No longer did that brute chase after him.

No longer did he put Izaya before everything.

_No longer..._

"Ha, haha..haha!" Izaya stumbled backwards. During the short time that Shizuo stormed away from him, out the alley, turned left, and terrified everyone in his path, Izaya forced himself to stay rooted to the ground and still.

In the distance, Izaya heard cars screeching and the loud crunch of a street post being uprooted and used as a stress reliever.

His back hit the wall. He let momentum pull his head along.

The night sky twinkled with stars that night, strips of thin clouds twisting different designs. The air was chilly.

Izaya slumped against the hard wall, slowly sliding down along the cement structure.

_What am I doing?_

He ran a thin, cold hand through his raven-black hair.

_This is pathetic...I never knew just how much it hurts...to want someone—anyone—to hold me tight..._

"Haha...ha..."

He straightened and took a few steps forward.

_Those demented stories those humans swoon over-love stories...when one character is alone, in complete despair...someone always comes at the right time to console them..._

He walked instinctively, mechanically, having memorized both mentally and physically all the routes to and from Ikebukuro.

"Hah…"

_What the hell am I thinking about?_

He gripped his coat desperately, tightly, till his numbed hands turned white.

"Stupid…"

_...I can't take this anymore...why? I've survived so long by myself. I don't need anyone. I'm better than that. _

_So why?_

Tears silently slid down pale, numbing cheeks, tinged with pink.

_Why do I wish for someone, anyone, to hold me...keep me together? _

He took a few stuttering breaths.

_Anything is fine...I don't care anymore...just hold me..._

He wrapped his arms in front of himself and clutched painfully tight on his upper arms.

"Please…please."

_I feel like I can fall apart any moment; my arms will become useless...it hurts...it hurts, it hurts._

A stab throbbed arduously at his heart...

"Please."

_But life doesn't work that way. No one will come; not now, not ever._

Tears stained and burned his cheeks in the desolate night.

"No one."

_No. No one will come._

Unknowingly, he had arrived at his apartment in Shinjuku.

The dark, empty apartment greeted him with malice, taking one last strike at Izaya.

"Ha—haha—hahaha!" The door slammed shut as the raven burst out laughing, tears still streaming down his cheeks. "Hahahaha!" He fell against the door, slightly bent over as his hand ran through his sleek hair, stopping at the back and pulling his head towards the door.

"Hah…haha…" Tears flooded his eyes. He hiccupped and slid to the floor.

"Pathetic—ha," he mumbled.

Any infinitesimal amount of hope remaining in Izaya was crushed and hurled out the top window of a skyscraper, because, perhaps, just maybe…someone would be there.

"I've said so many times; it doesn't work that way," he continued to murmur. "So many times, that no one will be there!" He threw his hands out in front of him, palms up, fingers stretched as if grabbing for something, and suddenly clenched them into fists. "So many times! _Why won't you listen!" _He swung his arms up and pounded them onto the floor, hard. Even through the numbness Izaya felt the pain.

Disregarding Izaya's frustration, a few people ran through Izaya's mind, flashes of possibilities. Despite his efforts to shut it out, Izaya couldn't do anything as his thoughts tortured him with false hopes.

_Shiki…san…?_

Izaya's body relaxed, his legs straight and arms slack at his sides as he leaned against the hard door.

_Shiki-san…_

Maybe, just maybe…oh, please…

.x.

* * *

><p><em>AN: The .x. is for the next chapter, 'cause we're gonna go back in time a little. ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

January 20, 2012

Disclaimer: I don't own Durarara!

Remember, my dear readers, this chapter starts in the past. Please check the previous chapter for my notes. I apologize for the late update here on .

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 4:**

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

Izaya had watched Shizuo for a long time.

He remembered vividly the first time they met, the first time Izaya laid eyes on that monster.

Recently transferred to Raijin High, Izaya cared not for the school uniform. Throwing on his trusty black pants, red shirt, and cropped black jacket, he met with Shinra on his first day. As the young doctor tried to explain where all the school facilities were and other school-related facts, Izaya tuned him out and scanned his surrounding areas.

Everything looked bland, but decent enough. He ignored the wary and confused glances from the students as they threw him puzzled looks that said, "Why's he wearing that?" Or better, the jealous glares from the guys as the girls ogled at him.

He was about to deem his new school "boring" and "just like the others; no fun at all" when a deafening _bam! _sounded outside. Izaya stopped in the hallway and turned his head towards the window. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Shinra slap a hand to his face, sigh, and shake his head.

For a brief moment, Izaya wondered why Shinra would have such a reaction, and his wondering changed to frustration; he was supposed to be the one with all the information. He was not going to allow someone else know while he stood wondering.

Izaya didn't have to wait long—nor try—until the perpetrator showed himself below. The raven-haired boy peered out the window and saw a blonde boy, wearing a ragged, blue Raijin uniform, panting and easily clutching a streetlight as a group of other boys surrounded him.

_A gang fight in the middle of the day, huh? _was the first thought that went through Izaya's mind.

Three seconds later, though, Izaya couldn't believe his eyes.

The blonde boy at the bottom effortlessly swung the pole around and knocked down all of his attackers. Izaya saw the fresh cuts on the other's face, chest, and arms. Yet, it seemed as if he didn't even notice them.

From that moment on, the young informant was captivated. He resolved to meet that blonde boy and make him a part of his life.

He, that monster, turned everything upside down.

.

The truths that Izaya had convinced himself of were challenged, ridiculed, and ripped apart as Shizuo hurdled into Izaya's life.

He was the complete opposite of the raven; never did he hesitate to express his thoughts and feelings.

Impulsive, yes.

Reckless, yes.

But honest and true to himself.

Weren't all humans selfish, greedy, and manipulative?

_Well, then. Shizu-chan is a monster._

* * *

><p>During the next few days, Izaya watched Shizuo throughout the school day, all the while pretending not to care about anything. Shinra was his escort and guide for the first few weeks of school.<p>

Finally, after casually asking Shinra about 'that boy with blonde hair', Izaya offhandedly commented that he wanted to meet him, that Heiwajima Shizuo. Shinra had raised his eyebrows and observed Izaya's face for a brief moment before relenting.

"_Fine, but promise me that you won't do anything to provoke him."_

Izaya smirked and met Shinra's eyes, but he made no reply. Returning his gaze to outside the window, Izaya leaned back, using his arms as support on the table, and swung his legs back and forth. He had never been so eager to meet someone in his life.

.

That day, after school, Shinra attempted to introduce the two. As Shizuo finished up his 'fight', Shinra and Izaya waited on the side.

Izaya stared, his whole body brimming with excitement. He was so graceful, so beautiful, that Shizuo. His strength was unmatched, and he was unrestricted. He was a monster, terrifying, enchanting, and irresistible.

Once the last idiot fell, Izaya ardently clapped his hands. Well, it was befitting in this situation, right?

Shizuo turned, cautious and suspecting of the crimson-eyed stranger. After regarding Izaya for a few seconds, he declared matter-of-factly, "I don't like him."

A slight pain cut through the young informant's chest. This was just like those other times…those other meaningless times when people put him in an unfavorable category before even getting to know him—but, why did he care so much when it came from this brute?

"Oh?" He covered it with his usual mask. He was definitely not going to back down so easily. "That's too bad. I thought I'd be able to have some fun with you." A wave of the hand, followed by a provocative smirk that said, 'I'm better than you.'

"Shut up." Shizuo turned away. Who was this guy? Why did he give Shizuo such an unsettling feeling in his stomach?

_It's best if I don't get close to him._

"Don't say that, Shizuo-kun." Izaya's sentence ended with an amused smirk. Having detected the mocking tone in the raven's voice, Shizuo spun around and charged at the latter in a fit of anger and irritation.

With an effortless push of the hands and tap of the feet, Izaya easily leapt away from the insanely powerful blonde. Anguish flickered across his eyes for a split second before he replaced it with his amused grin as he spun around and nimbly sliced at Shizuo's chest.

_I am not one of those other people who you can easily fling away without a care in the world. They don't understand you; they're mere humans. All they care about is themselves—selfish, arrogant, imprudent, ignorant. _

_We are on a different level. We terrify them; we cannot be classified under the same definition._

A snap of his wrist made his blade flick upward, pointing straight at Shizuo as Izaya tilted his head condescendingly.

"See? It's fun."

* * *

><p>That night, Izaya sat alone on the roof of a random building in the brightly light streets of Ikebukuro. He lay on his back, one arm cushioning his head as the other twirled his flick blade in front of him.<p>

Behind his hand and blade, the night sky shimmered with small blue specks of stars while the buildings were illuminated by shining lights of the city. The air was cold, but Izaya did not notice, for he was too engrossed in his excited and determined thoughts.

With a smile on his face, his crimson eyes glowed with glee.

_Ah, Shizu-chan._

He twirled his blade around his fingers.

_If you won't let anyone come close, then I will force my way in._

An image of Shizuo flashed before his eyes, standing there looking exactly like he did after his fight just hours ago.

_If you're afraid to hurt those around you, then I will make you _**want**_ to hurt me._

"Right?" He murmured, voice laden with amusement.

_If you want others to stay away from you, then I will make _**you**_ chase after _**me**_._

He set his thin, pale arms down beside him and closed his eyes.

_If you can't love someone, then I will let you hate me._

The raven's breathing slowed as he relived the meeting he had with that blonde monster, forgetting about everything—and anything—else.

_I will be your only focus._

_All you see will be me, and only me._

_By whatever means, I will make you mine…_

…_**while I will become your one and only**__._

.xx.

He ran. His legs carried him as fast as they can, but not quick enough.

His breath came in short, painful breaths as he forced himself to continue sprinting, jumping, _anything_, to get away from there. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, propelling his body over gates and fences—yet, they were still catching up.

His heartbeat pounded in his ear while his whole body screamed at him to rest.

He ignored such obvious necessities as he desperately pushed forward. The sound of their falling footsteps taunted him, laughed at him, while the impassioned shouts and clangs of metal nagged incessantly at his thoughts.

The wind slapped at his cheeks and he felt himself slowing down.

_Ah, damn._

Albeit the desperateness of his situation, his thoughts remained calm. Maybe that's what helped him through all these years of danger. His lithe, cat-like body was not for confronting huge men who can snap his spine easier than a twig.

All but—

_Ah, shit._

He had slowed tremendously, panting heavily and simultaneously trying to gulp huge amounts of air. He darted into another alley, behind stairs, into yet another dark alley, and collapsed against a wall.

For what seemed like a long time—five minutes, at most—all Izaya heard was the harsh loudness of his own breathing and the sounds of his pursuers grow unceasingly closer.

He bent over, trying to regain composure as quickly as possible. _Shit. Shit, shitshitshit! How could I have been so stupid! _He clenched his fists together, pushing them against his half-bent knees.

_Shit, _he swore once more as his body stiffened right when he noticed the dark silhouette in the shadows covering the alley. Unconsciously gripping his knees, Izaya froze rock still. His mind ran through hundreds of different ways of escape, and he was about to act on one of them when something about the person kept Izaya standing there, motionless, not knowing why he didn't run away already. For a split second, the raven hesitated in his usual sleek escapes, and that split second was enough for the person to step within range of the informant and speak.

"Izaya."

The tone was casual, cold, uncaring—as if they were striking a conversation outside a café.

"It seems like your predictions were off this time; what happened to the great, infallible Orihara Izaya?"

Izaya heard the amused, mocking words clearly. He had not moved an inch from his position, still bent over, leaning against the wall.

The man took his time as he stepped over to Izaya.

"Shiki-san..." Izaya began. He straightened himself, albeit still backed against the wall. "I apologize for the mistake. I will—"

"No," Shiki interrupted as he snapped open his lighter.

Izaya kept quiet, watching as Shiki lit his cigarette, inhaled the nicotine, and exhaled the poisonous gas.

"It's fine. My men will fix it for now. Well, you did more than you were asked, anyways. Didn't we arrange to meet tomorrow morning?" He stopped briefly before continuing as Izaya kept quiet, "It doesn't matter anyways. If I was not notified, I wonder if you'll be able to maneuver your way out of this." Another puff. "Actually, I am quite interested."

Izaya felt a surge of anger rush through him. He was frustrated with himself, frustrated at his mistake. He was Orihara Izaya; that should explain everything, and he _always _came out as the winner.

Tires screeched in the distance, seemingly some sort of cue for Shiki as he raised his head towards that direction, held his cigarette up in his hand, and thought for a few seconds.

He turned and began walking.

Izaya remained stiff, once again running escape routes through his head. He cannot trust Shiki, despite the number of years he's worked for him.

After a few steps, the Awakusu-kai executive stopped and glanced back. "Izaya-san, please hurry up. I have business to speak to you about."

_Hurry...hurry up. So I have to leave with him. _That didn't sound all too promising, but anything was better than the risk of being caught by those men.

* * *

><p><em>"<em>What's wrong, Shizuo?" Tom looked over his shoulder at his partner. The night lights of Ikebukuro fully bloomed at this late hour, with people still strolling around, not caring a bit about the time.

Shizuo had stopped and was staring at something behind him. Apparently, he did not hear Tom, for he made no reply.

_"_Shizuo?" his senpai repeated, bordering on concern.

The blonde finally turned around, but not because of his senpai's calls. Shizuo's eyes were unfocused, as if he had entered a different world of his own, and he didn't notice Tom in front of him at all. With his hands stuffed in the pockets of his pants, he instinctively began to take a few steps forward before abruptly stopping as Tom called out, once again, "Shizuo!"

His eyes grew wide in shock, albeit concealed to Tom and everyone else as his bluish sunglasses still rested on the bridge of his nose.

"Sorry, Tom-san, what were you saying?"

Relieved that Shizuo finally responded, Tom grinned and briefly shook his head. "You know, Shizuo, I know that you're ecstatic about your engagement, and that it's probably the only thing on your mind right now, but please do try to pay some attention to where you're going," Tom teasingly mocked.

Shizuo hesitated for a second, confused at what his senpai was saying, and when he finally understood, he was embarrassed and humbly apologized, "I'm sorry, Tom-san..." He couldn't think of anything else to say, and although his senpai had the wrong idea, Shizuo thought that clarifying would actually make things more confusing and difficult to explain and make sense of.

"Oh, I don't mean it that way. It's no big deal, Shizuo." Tom's tone switched to a slightly serious one, but it quickly changed back to being happy and carefree. "I'm excited for you, too! I can't believe you're actually getting married already! Ah, then what does that make me?" He smiled at Shizuo, who stood there, feeling uncomfortable.

"Nothing much is gonna change..." He certainly did feel a surge of happiness at the thought of marrying Vorona, but along with that joy, a feeling he couldn't quite pinpoint accompanied it—somewhat like an uneasy uncertainty, something he didn't know why was there.

Seeing Shizuo's response—or none thereof, Tom's expression stayed plastered on his face as he passingly wondered what the matter was.

Meanwhile, Shizuo completely ignored his surroundings and followed Tom out of habit. Something else occupied the whole of his mind.

A few streets back, he had caught glimpse of a certain skinny, cunning, absolutely annoying flea in the distance. In the shadows of the busy streets, a man in a crisp, white suit entered a spotless limo, and following behind him was a young man who wore dark colors, and a coat with fur-trim.

No doubt, that was Izaya.

Yet, why didn't Shizuo notice earlier?

When he saw the two, he even hesitated for a second or so before he was sure that it was Izaya.

Well, to Shizuo's credit, the raven held himself quite differently than usual; his shoulders were slightly hunched, and he seemed lost, confused, as if he no longer had the immense amount of control over himself and others.

Why did it seem like he was broken, like he no longer cared about what was going on around him?

_That_ Izaya who claimed to love humanity so much?

_The_ Izaya who would not let the smallest chance of observing humans slip by?

He, who now appeared completely vulnerable and submissive?

_Was that_ _Izaya_?

Shizuo had stood staring, utterly confused. His initial reaction of anger and irritation didn't even surface.

As he walked after Tom, pondering the expression on Izaya's face—one that Shizuo had never seen—he abruptly stopped again as he realized what he was doing.

_Wait, why do I care what the flea looked like? He's always looked disgusting! With that smirk on his face as if he's-well, he didn't smir-that doesn't matter! Why do I give a damn?_

Shizuo released his clenched fists.

_Wait—I didn't even notice that he was in Ikebukuro. _

Shizuo didn't know what to think. For the past six years or so—since high school when they met—Shizuo had _always_ detected Izaya's presence regardless of where that louse was.

Can it be considered a good thing that the flea was off his mind more, now?

Well...

"-zuo! Shizuo, I think we should call it quits for today," Tom sighed, as he stuffed his hands in his front pockets.

Once again jolted out of his deep thoughts, Shizuo felt ashamed. "Sorry, Tom-san," he muttered. "And thank you. I promise I'll do better tomorrow." He hung his head slightly.

"Yeah. Rest up, Shizuo. I don't want you getting sick! What would I do without you to help me get to debtors to pay their money back?" Tom sounded cheerful, trying to lighten up his junior's spirits.

Shizuo nodded his head. "Nn. I'll be fine. Good-night, Tom-san."

"Good-night, Shizuo."

The latter stood and watched his senior disappear into the throng of the night crowd before turning around and letting his feet take him to a random destination as he was immersed in his thoughts again.

Shizuo didn't realize how long he had wandered the streets of Ikebukuro for. By the time he finally lifted his head and noticed his surroundings, the sky was completely dark, while the distinctive night life of the busy city was already fully awake and alive.

With his hands still buried deep inside his front pockets, the ex-bartender stood at a crosswalk directly across from a dark alleyway, which was engulfed in obscurity as bright lights illuminated the main, populated sections of the city.

As he waited for the traffic light to turn green, Shizuo pulled his lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and snapped open the lid.

A thin figure slipped by, across that street, and caught his attention. It resembled Izaya, the way it walked, the mysterious aura around that person.

Shizuo slammed his lighter shut and stuffed it back into his pocket.

Not caring whether the light was green or not, the blonde ran towards that shadowed person. With cars honking, pedestrians screaming, drivers shouting profanities, Shizuo couldn't care less as his vision locked on only one place: that dark alleyway in front of him. If anything was in his path on that street, he flung it away just as easily, adding to the chaotic noise of screams and crashes.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

February 6, 2012

Please enjoy!

Remember:

.x. means back to the past.

.xx. means return to the present, but I mainly use that for long flash backs. Sometimes, .x. is only to go back to a few hours ago, continuing the story from then to now.

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 5:**

* * *

><p>.x.<p>

_A few hours prior._

"Well, Izaya?"

A trail of smoke exited the nonchalant Awakusu-kai executive's mouth as he pulled the cigarette away from his lips. His cold, piercing eyes never moved away from the face of the informant—cunning, quick, and manipulative.

As he sat in the couch across from Shiki's desk, however, Izaya felt anything but those three descriptions of him. Rather, he refused to look Shiki in the eye, because his tended to go unfocused and lose their gaze every few minutes.

Why can't he seem to focus these days?

Once again, Izaya began to immerse himself in his thoughts, forgetting about his surroundings.

Shiki noticed, had noticed before, and sat smoking his cigarette, silently observing the informant.

"Well? Shiki-san, you know everything already. What else do you want me to say?" Izaya flashed a glance over at Shiki before returning to his previous line of vision—staring at the right corner of the office desk.

A trail of smoke snaked upwards as Shiki took his time to exhale his puff of nicotine, and then leaned forward and straightened himself in his office chair, saying, "You went into that unprepared." He paused for effect, to let his words sink in with impact. "You let them realize your true motives, Orihara-san"—the change to surname implied that Izaya was on his own in this—"and you almost ruined _our_ plans by your one blatant mistake."

The disapproving words went through the raven's ears and lodged themselves in the back of his brain.

Izaya wasn't listening.

He knew what Shiki was saying, what he meant, and the informant couldn't bear to hear anymore. Those days he already couldn't concentrate, frequently messing up his word, and he didn't want Shiki, of all people, to rub salt on his wounds. His mind drifted away from reality…away to the scenes his subconscious mind played for him in his sleep the past two weeks, increasing in intensity recently.

The solitary image of the dimly lit room, the corner of the mahogany desk, the yellowish glow of the lamp, all faded away—stayed in the back of his mind—as the familiar scenes from his dreams played out in front of him, in that room. He remembered how he felt like he was shivering, numb from walking in the rain for hours, clad only in his thin clothing. He didn't know where he was, why he was walking, why he was the only person in that vicinity. All the stores were closed, no cars, nothing.

As he continued walking, without knowing why or to where, a gray, unclear silhouette was discernible in the distance, just standing there. It never moved an inch even as Izaya walked closer.

_It's a guy_, he thought offhandedly, too cold and numb to care.

Finally, as he approached the other man, as they were about two stores away from each other, Izaya recognized the solid stature, the blond hair, the bartender outfit, and the ever-present frown whenever the informant was around.

He stopped dead in his tracks, paralyzed with cold and dread.

_Why is Shizu-chan here? Why? I look pathetic._

No matter how hard he tried, Izaya couldn't move away, couldn't make himself turn around and leave.

_I don't want him to see me like this…_

He was still paralyzed, though, in his dream.

His half-conscious mind flinched when he noticed Shizuo move towards him. The raven stared straight ahead, at the blonde's soaked chest, bowtie slanted.

He felt himself stiffen when the taller man lifted his arm, reaching for his face, and his eyes snapped shut. He was unable to move, so might as well brace for the punch that would easily smash his jaw to pieces.

The impact never came.

Instead, a warm sensation on his cheek aroused Izaya's curiosity to open his eyes, to figure out why he didn't get attacked.

Peering right back at him was a pair of hazel eyes, expression soft, mixed with pain and sadness.

_Why—what…is this?_

He didn't know he had been crying until Shizuo brushed at his eyes with a tenderness Izaya had never dared to wish for from that beautiful, horrible, blonde. The warmth from those calloused fingers triggered a continuous flow of tears, falling down as the rain pelted them both. Neither said a word, never made a sound.

Izaya sealed his lips, for fear of breaking the trance they were both in, of ruining this moment he had been longing for, for years. Shizuo kept his hand on the pale raven's cheek, caressing his soft skin, never looking away from those crimson eyes which were blurred by tears and tiredness. He reached out with his other arm and enveloped the scrawny informant, pulling him to his chest and embraced him with both arms.

Izaya shook terribly; he was still standing only because of Shizuo. His tears were almost enough to drown him; he couldn't stop crying. He gripped onto the blonde's soaked vest and hiccupped as he wept, desperately clinging on to that one thing, that one person, that he had ever wanted.

The disconcerted informant was brutally brought back to reality with the loud _clunk! _of a glass cup on the hard coffee table in front of him and the couch. Shiki had purposely set it down noisily, and as Izaya lifted his eyes, he saw the executive slide one hand into his pocket and the other rose to his lips for another puff of the cigarette. The informant stared, mind blank, desperately trying to remember and sort out his thoughts. Just a second ago he was living in a much-preferred world than this treacherous reality. He felt himself begin to fall apart again—and it was at the worst possible time.

"Izaya, I've noticed that you haven't been quite well. Please, tell me about it."

Said man stared into the other's eyes, surprised at the offer and at the hint of concern in the voice, albeit the usual coldness. He hesitated slightly before replying, "No, I'm fine, Shiki-san. The lack of sleep has finally gotten to me…" His sentence drifted off as he realized how unconvincing and non-Izaya-like it sounded.

"Never mind that, Shiki-san," he continued with a chuckle and a smirk, "I apologize for my stupid mistake tonight. It will be fixed and never be mentioned again." Izaya pushed himself off the sofa and headed directly to the door. With a hand on the knob, he turned around and said, "I'm terribly sorry, but I must take my leave now. Don't worry; I'll have everything finished by tomorrow afternoon."

As he pulled the door open, he heard Shiki say, "Now, Izaya, I don't doubt you. If anything ever happens, though," Shiki paused slightly, "you know the consequences."

Izaya didn't look back. He walked out of the room and left the building as quickly as possible, without appearing suspicious to anyone—the employees, or Shiki's subordinates. Once out in the dark streets, he took the time to review the events of the day, starting with what Shiki said last.

_If anything ever happens…_

Izaya knew the hidden meaning behind that apparent threat. Shiki wasn't dumb; he knew. He knew Izaya possibly even better than the informant knew himself.

…_you know the consequences…_

Shiki was talking about Shizuo.

Yes, about Shizuo, and not about the fatal flaw Izaya had made a few hours earlier, when he had forgotten that the deal with Awakusu and a few other shady groups was to be implemented after Shiki had gotten what he planned for—yet, Izaya went into the meeting place of a couple of rival gangs, proffered some sort of cooperation—that bordered on threat—with them, but instead, the members were riled and locked on to the idea of how satisfying it would be to "tame" the cunning informant when even the Fortissimo of Ikebukuro couldn't.

Well, then, that's how the chase started, with a fair amount of tough, bloodthirsty gang members chasing after Izaya, all competing with each other to see who can catch him first. If it was any other time, Izaya would've escaped, though not easily, but it wouldn't have been difficult, either.

However, what with the lack of concentration and absentmindedness lately, Izaya—to his own frustration—slipped here and there, stumbled, and almost made a fatal fall quite a few times, despite his skills as a master parkour user.

When he was finally able to get a fair amount of distance between the roused gang members was when Shiki showed up not five minutes later.

Izaya stopped in the middle of the street. He didn't notice that he had wandered into the middle of one of the most populated areas of the city, right into the heart of Ikebukuro. Rooted to the ground, the raven froze, blanking out on what he was doing, or rather, what he should be doing. Despite the late hour, people bustled around him, chatting, walking, going about their happy lives.

Looking around, Izaya tried to identify just where, exactly, he was. He had every part, every alleyway, every hole in Ikebukuro memorized. He didn't want to return to Shinjuku that night…his apartment was wholly empty and void of warmth. Just thinking of it…was too much. Too much…for every time the image of the dark, cold world he lived in appeared in his mind, the raven would immediately see the beautiful shock of blonde hair, that unwavering stance, those—

_No._

Izaya was ready to ruin one of his precious humans' lives at the expense of his own irritation. What the hell was wrong with him?

Well, true, an infinite amount of problems could be listed, but that was beside the point.

Scanning his eyes across the streets, Izaya found a small alley that'd lead him up to a high rooftop; he effortlessly slipped through the throngs of people and into the dark place, easily propelling himself upwards, to the top of the building, overlooking the illuminated night life of the city.

Izaya walked over to the edge and leaned himself against the flimsy rail, carelessly watching the indistinct shapes of people move down below.

Incoherent thoughts cluttered his mind again, as he paid no attention to his surroundings.

Images of those days in high school played out in front of him, brought him back to the time when he saw Shizuo every day, when he dominated every second of the blonde's life.

He remembered when Shizuo would charge into class at random times, shouting accusations that Izaya was the mastermind behind whatever problem that had arisen before Shizuo. That Izaya had planned for the boy's demise, for his torturous death. The raven would smirk, giving off his usual aura of mysteriousness, deviousness, and, especially, sagaciousness. Inwardly, he was bursting with delight and amusement.

Along with his smirk, he'd nonchalantly lean back in his chair and reply, "_Well? Shizu-chan, you certainly don't believe that I can teleport, since I've been here the whole time. I have everyone here as a witness." _Turning his head to the teacher, he'd continue, "_Right, sensei?"_

A soft chuckle left his lips as he vividly remembered the bright red color flush across Shizuo's face, and in the midst of his anger, the infuriated boy grabbed a desk and flung it straight at the raven.

The memory darted away as Izaya fell back in sync with reality because of his involuntary chuckle.

The coldness of the night seeped through his thin attire, and the happiness of the reminiscence faded away. A small puff of white appeared when Izaya exhaled, and he pulled his coat tighter, discreetly trying to warm himself up, although no one was around to watch him.

_Shizu-chan…_

Memories flooded his mind.

_Shizu-chan…_

He had so much he wanted to express.

So much, that it could only be conveyed by that one name.

_Shizu-chan…_

His vision blurred, and the mass of people below, along with the glimmer of the lights, became even more indistinct, mushing into a big mess of colors, not unlike the view through the windshield on a particularly rainy night.

_I love humans, but what about monsters?_

His chest constricted painfully.

_I hate them._

"What are you doing here?"

Izaya spun around, his alarm and defenses at their max, and prepared to confront the person he had not been able to sense approach him.

His guard, which had shot up, pummeled down just as quickly.

_Shizu-chan's a monster…_

Standing before him, near the door leading from the building to the rooftop, was the blonde, complete in his bartender suit.

Izaya was at a loss for words. A witty reply evaded him, and all he could do was remain in his position, trying not to lose his composure.

_Therefore, I hate Shizu-chan._

A vein twitched near Shizuo's temple.

"I said," he repeated, "what are you doing here?" This time, his voice evidently contained irritation and anger.

In the dark, along with the distance between them and the shine of the lights behind the raven, Shizuo didn't see that Izaya's mouth opened, only to close again, without a word.

_Shizu-chan._

That was all he could think of.

_It's Shizu-chan._

Izaya took a step towards the man.

_Shizu-chan's here…_

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Shizu-chan…" It was barely above a whisper.

The vein twitched again.

"Didn't I say, Izaya-_kun_, to stop calling me that!"

Izaya didn't reply. Rather, he didn't even hear what Shizuo said. All he focused on was the fact that this man was in front of him right now, that he was right there. He was alone, looking solely at Izaya, without that assassin girl with him. In the raven's mind, they were back in the days when Shizuo had no eyes for anyone but him, no one but Izaya.

"Shizu-chan..." Izaya breathed, repeating the name like a mantra.

Shizuo stared, confused at Izaya's completely different attitude and personality.

Was this really the annoying man who never lost his composure?

The one who always had that smirk on his face, who always acted as if he controlled the world?

_Is this Izaya?_

"Louse, what are you up to now?" The blonde tried to make his voice sound threatening, but it only came out that way for the first two words.

He received no reply; the raven only stepped ever-closer to him.

Only a foot away, Izaya stopped. Shizuo had never seen that expression from him before, never seen such an overflowing amount of emotions reflected in those unexpectedly deep, crimson eyes before. He was taken aback; he unconsciously let his guard down for once in front of Izaya. The latter's gaze seemed to pierce right through Shizuo, shaking a resolve in him that he never knew he had.

What was it?

_Is he shaking? _His thought brought his attention to the trembling body of the thin man.

_Why—?_

Without notice, Izaya reached out for Shizuo's face. He was so close, so damn close.

_Shizu-chan, you're the only one I hate;_

His vision blurred due to the tears that threatened to fall out of the corner of his eyes as his whole being gravitated towards that one man he had always been mesmerized by.

–_the only one to hold that position in my heart._

No matter how contradictory it sounded, no matter how unreasonable, that was all Izaya could do to explain, to admit, Shizuo's importance in his life.

"Shizu-chan—"

He couldn't stand it anymore.

_Once, just once. __**Please**__, save me just this one time._

He trembled from head to toe, which was draining the small amount of strength he had left.

The blonde stood paralyzed, rooted to the ground in those shocking three seconds when all his brain registered was Izaya lunging towards him.

Next, he felt frozen, soft hands brush through his hair and around his neck.

_Wait—waitwaitwaitwaitwaitwait—_

He felt those hands hold on tightly and pull him forward as his eyes grew wide in shock and his feet stumbled for balance.

_Fuck! He's going to stab me—or somethi—_

A moment of panic blocked everything else out of his mind—the brimming tears on the raven's face, the shaking of those hands, the immense pain evident in that voice—nothing registered. His natural instincts and his habits nurtured through countless times of chasing that louse down controlled his actions now.

Shizuo wrung the weak, shaking arms away from his neck—_what does he think he's doing!—_and flung the raven across the roof.

He was not surprised when Izaya landed lightly on his feet, but he barely registered that it was done less smoothly than usual. As Izaya stood up, he had stumbled a fraction of a step before regaining balance. Shock jolted him out of his muddled state.

Shizuo couldn't have cared less at that moment. His breathing had quickened, his chest rising and falling noticeably as his heart beat loudly in his ears. Never had Izaya come that close before—at least, and especially, not that unexpectedly. Adrenaline rushed through his body in a split second once his brain had only registered the proximity of Shizuo's number one enemy.

Slowly calming down, he waited for Izaya to move, to do something, but the lithe man was stock still, had been since he landed. Then, he turned his upper body around, glanced briefly at Shizuo, and turned back around to start walking towards the edge of the building. In that brief instant, when Shizuo saw the raven's expression, he was thrown aback.

_What was that?_

His train of thought shattered when the sound of laughter passed by his ears. At first it was a soft chuckle, and then it burst into a short, hysterical laugh, which ended just as abruptly as it started. Shizuo, frozen in his spot, stared at the back of Izaya's head. For the umpteenth time, Shizuo was only able to pinpoint one thought, that one thought of _This is Izaya? _in a galaxy of many others he couldn't quite put his hands on.

"Haha..." The laugh was mirthless, hollow. Shizuo had already calmed his breathing to a steadier pace, and now he straightened himself. His brain was beginning to register Izaya's posture: shoulders slightly slumped, arms tense, a hint of a defeated look. The laugh, though, was what caught Shizuo's interest.

Somehow, it left deep impression on him...he'd never heard something that pained, that hopeless. It was a sound of a final decision to give up, to let go and fall, after years and years of clutching on to a thin line of hope. But, what was it that Izaya was giving up on? That Izaya, who was persistent as hell and always found a way to get what he wanted, to do what he wanted?

Twisting his upper body to face Shizuo, Izaya's small smile and downward gaze reflected only a portion of his true inner emotions, but that small amount shown was enough to throw Shizuo off. Izaya refused to meet Shizuo's eyes; if he did, who knows what he'd do? Run over and hope that the brute would understand? Cry and stutter in front of that frustratingly dense man? Punch that beautiful face?

No, he couldn't look into those eyes. He mustn't.

"Shizu-chan, you're a cruel man." That simple sentence, spoken softly yet clearly, stabbed at Shizuo.

He didn't know why.

He didn't, but it still forced him to strain his ears to hear Izaya.

At that time, Shizuo was unable to connect that the tension he felt and the tone of the raven's voice were all because of Izaya's resolution that night to give up, to let go of everything, because Shizuo was his everything. He was running away from the pain he'd face when he would be ignored by Shizuo. It was already happening, and it hurt this much.

What would become of him when Shizuo finally married that assassin girl and Izaya was merely another person in this big city that passed by Shizuo? Tears threatened their way back to Izaya's eyes.

_No, tonight's the last. The last time I'll…Shizu-chan._

Izaya removed his gaze from the dark roof floor and turned back around, blinking much more than normal, willing the moistness in his eyes away. He faced out into the heart of Ikebukuro, away from Shizuo. "Very cruel, indeed."

Shizuo barely had time to react before Izaya jumped from the building. He didn't bother chasing him, since his mind was already cluttered with too many things to comprehend. He didn't know how that his not chasing Izaya had crushed the last lingering piece of hope the raven had tried to push away.

He didn't need to anymore.

It was no longer there. Stomped on and thrown away.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6

March 16, 2012

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 6:**

* * *

><p>When Izaya arrived at the door of his apartment, his cheeks were numb. So were his hands and feet. His eyes were emotionless, his movements lifeless. The turning of the key, the removing of his shoes, they were all done mechanically, out of habit, and no thought was put into it. The lights outside shone into the large, glass window behind his desk, and the moonlight also bathed the desk in a glow of opal white.<p>

Once he got inside and shut the door behind him, Izaya simply stood there. His mind was blank; he didn't know where or what he was going to do. As he took a step forward, then another step, something out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention. There, on his neat and modern desk, was the envelope. The envelope that Kadota had handed him, the invitation to Shizuo's wedding. Izaya paused and stared, until he finally pulled his gaze away and headed for the bathroom.

The raven didn't know what to do with it—he'd tried throwing it away, but ended up pulling it back out of the recycle bin. Yet, at the same time, he didn't want to stuff it inside a drawer like it was something he deemed important enough to keep. So he just left it alone and chose to ignore it.

Thus, there lay the vanilla-colored envelope, opened and aslant on the desolate desk and embellished in intricate, flowing designs—it was a small piece of happiness that caused an abyss of despair_._

_It was only the beginning of an end._

* * *

><p>"Kadota, I..." Shizuo hesitated.<p>

The man in the beanie stayed silent, leaning against the rail as they stood in one of the less crowded areas of the busy city. Cars zoomed by, people rushed on, and the stores were open and running.

"I...have been thinking," Shizuo squeezed out, trying to hide his discomfort by taking a smoke of the cigarette in between his fingers. He stared up into the clouds. "That, just maybe, well...That there's something wrong with the flea," he finished hastily.

His eyes were still directed up towards the sky, staring at nothing in particular. He waited nervously for a reply, but when he received none, he turned his head and glanced at Kadota through his blue sunglasses. His perceptive friend just looked at him with an unreadable expression, making Shizuo even more uneasy.

"You mean Izaya?" His eyes were interrogative, and mixed with a dash of something Shizuo couldn't identify as what.

"Ah...y-yeah." Shizuo ran a calloused hand through his blonde hair.

"Don't you always think that there's something wrong with him?" Still, that interrogative tone stayed.

"Of course!" Shizuo blurted. "He's messed up in so many ways that I can't even count! That bastard, always-" Shizuo's eyes met his trusted friend's, and immediately he realized his outburst, unexpected since he was quite hesitant at first.

They stared at each other; the uncomfortable silence stayed.

"Well, then what's your point?"

"A-ah...what I mean is...doesn't he seem...different than usual?"

Kadota chose his words carefully. Now that Shizuo seemed to be reconsidering his attitude towards Izaya...Kadota didn't want to ruin it by accidentally triggering Shizuo's temper and stubbornness.

"You have to be more specific than that," Kadota prompted cautiously.

Shizuo kept on rubbing his head. "Well..." He sighed. "I don't know what I'm trying to say."

The silence dragged on while Kadota tried to phrase his words in a way that would get past Shizuo's denseness, yet at the same time be subtle enough so that Shizuo wouldn't outright refuse merely because of spite and pride. On the other hand, Shizuo stood there, going through the motions of smoking the cigarette purely from habit. His mind was elsewhere, uncomfortably touching upon the subject of Izaya's unusual behavior, and even more unwillingly, the Izaya of three nights ago.

It had been three days since Shizuo's encounter with Izaya up on the roof, and during those past few days that was what haunted the debt collector's thoughts ceaselessly. Tom had noticed, and so did Vorona. His senpai didn't bother him about it, if you ignore the occasional, "Nothing's wrong, Shizuo?" Vorona didn't, either. For that, Shizuo was grateful, and was even more certain in his decision to marry her. She wasn't naggy, whiny, or needy. All those things that girls seem to think were 'cute' nowadays; she was none of those. She knew when to leave him be, and when to give him her support. Shizuo didn't feel pressured to meet some unspoken expectations, nor did he feel obliged to do all those things seemingly expected in the simple term 'boyfriend.'

They fit well together, Vorona and him. She liked the same things he did; she even did the same things as he. They were both bodyguards, and both only knew fighting, been fighting their whole lives. They both loved sweets, too. What more could Shizuo ask for, when he finally found someone who was so similar to him, that they could both accept each other?

Well, what he didn't know was that he was missing out on an entirely different and thrilling outlook on, and way of, life. He didn't know that only settling for 'content' would break the relationship as easily as an iceberg to the Titanic. He didn't know that arguing—instead of merely agreeing—over simple matters such as which flavor, or which food, was better, would bring a warm, nervous feeling to his chest. He didn't know that spontaneous meant that his heart would beat _just_ a little bit faster whenever he was tugged to somewhere random. He didn't know that simply watching that person fall asleep at the desk, tired from work, would make him smile like an idiot—only, for that person.

He didn't know; oh, what he didn't know.

* * *

><p>Kadota decided to check on Izaya the very day Shizuo asked him about the informant.<p>

Tilting his head back, Kadota gave the building that consisted of Izaya's apartment one last look before he made the final decision to venture in. He'd kept his eyes straight to prevent himself from thoughts of leaving. Once he arrived at the door, he heaved a sigh and knocked. After a moment of silence, he saw the door slide open, with Izaya standing at an angle, not facing him directly. Kadota had expected to see Izaya in a slightly frazzled state, or at least trying to put on his usual air of confidence, but not this. Even Kadota didn't expect _this_.

The man was nothing like the Izaya he was used to seeing. Kadota silently followed him in, shocked speechless. The informant normally would have spoken a few sarcastic words upon seeing Kadota, and then led him haughtily into the apartment, over to the sofa. This time, however, Izaya had simply opened the door, turned around, and walked to the seats. No eye contact, no greetings, nothing. He didn't seem to care who it was. Habit seemed to control his actions rather than himself.

Kadota followed him after shutting the door. As he sat down beside his old friend, he noticed the signs of fatigue on the man's otherwise boyish face. Dark circles were clearly visible under his eyes, frown lines marred his forehead, and the ends of his lips were pointed slightly downwards.

"Izaya," he began, but received no recognition. "Izaya," he tried again, and this time he continued. "I don't really know what's going on, but you're not acting normally at all. At this rate, you're going to ruin yourself."

Kadota didn't realize that his own forehead had been creased in worry until he relaxed when Izaya twisted his head in his direction.

"You can't go on like this. Hey, why don't you try doing something fun or relaxing to get your mind off of whatever's bothering you?" He hesitated, and when he was about to speak his next concern, his eyes briefly swept around the room, and he blurted, "Where's Namie?"

Izaya didn't seem to hear, but soon he, too, lifted his head, glanced around the room, and when he looked Kadota in the eye, he said, "I...sent her home early." His crimson orbs were void of emotions, hollow. It made Kadota inwardly shiver at the sight.

"Oh..." he said. Glancing back at Izaya hesitantly, Kadota asked, "Izaya, what is it that you think of Shizuo?"

Immediately, he saw the raven flinch and stiffen. Kadota himself grew tense. Still, he repeated, "What is he to you?" The crimson eyes that were two miniature black holes a few seconds ago were now alive with confusion, pain, hopelessness, and despair. They stared up at the beanied man, seemingly pleading for mercy. Kadota was frozen in his seat, not knowing what to do and unable to move lest it made matters worse.

"What do you mean?" The clear and punctuated words, though slow, pierced through Kadota's indecisiveness. Izaya was staring at him defiantly.

"Umm," Kadota said, absentmindedly rubbing the back of his beanied head and avoiding Izaya's suddenly fierce and focused gaze. "What I mean is, ever since you heard of Shizuo's wedding, you've been acting quite off... I just wanted to make sure nothing's wrong—"

He was cut off by a short, maniacal laugh.

"Me, Dotachin? Affected by that brute?" Izaya scoffed. "You must be kidding me! No, I have been perfectly fine, Dotachin, but thank you for being concerned about me." He pushed himself off the sofa and stood. "Now, if that is all, then I do kindly ask that you leave me so that I can finish my work." He turned to head for the door, but when Kadota's voice reached him, he froze mid-step.

"Izaya, you do know the engagement party's in about two months and a half, in December, right?"

Cautiously, Izaya said, "Yes, I do. And what of it?"

Kadota sighed. "Shizuo's been trying hard to get on better terms with you; so is Vorona." Izaya's hand twitched. "So, can't you give it a chance and try to get along with them?"

"Thank you, Dotachin, but I will do things my way and decide myself what I want to do." His voice held a certain bite to it.

"Yeah, of course..." Kadota shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I'll take my leave now." He walked past Izaya, grabbed his shoes, and turned to face the informant, who was standing behind him at the door. "If anything, don't be reckless," he warned. Kadota stared right into Izaya's eyes, and the latter returned it with something akin to a defiant glare. He didn't reply. Kadota sighed, and headed out the door. "Bye, Izaya."

"Goodbye, Dotachin."

Izaya shut the door and kept his hand on the handle. Staring down at the floor, his mind was blank. A moment later, he finally turned around and walked over to his desk. Sitting down, he slumped against his comfy swivel chair and sighed, closing his eyes. His hand reached out and aimlessly patted around, looking for that small envelope, until he irritably opened his eyes and located it. He grabbed it in his hand, leaned back, and held the vanilla-colored invitation an arm's length away from his eyes.

Of course he knew when the engagement party was. Along with the wedding invitation, the one for the engagement party was also in there. Izaya had looked both of them over, and over, again for so many times already. How could he _not_ know when it was? Hell, he had even effortlessly memorized each crease, each line, everything on those two little pieces of paper because he had stared at them, had held them in his fingers, so many times.

The party was in December, the wedding in May. It was about the end of September, starting into October, already. December seemed so far away, yet so close at the same time.

The air was turning chilly, and Izaya could feel the stinging coldness seep throughout his apartment. He welcomed the cold, though. The numbness, the pain, the shivering, the pounding of the rain…he welcomed it all. At least they kept his mind off other things.

Izaya sighed and turned off his monitor after staring blankly at it for some time, absentmindedly swiveling his chair around with his legs against the floor. His window gave him a great view overlooking the city, the night lights twinkling in millions.

He wasn't in the mood to marvel at it, though. He hadn't been for days, now.

He closed his eyes, resting an arm on his forehead as the other dangled by his swivel chair. Really, what was he to do? Nothing, but to go on with his way of life, which seemed much more boring and shallow nowadays. Why was that? Shiki gave him the usual amount of work, if not more; and Shiki's assignments were not necessarily strolls through the park.

Speaking of which, he hadn't done that in a while. When was the last time he actually went out, skipped around town, and simply observed his dear humans go about their lives, while he went about his? It seemed like so long ago...so long.

When was it?

_Ever since..._

Izaya furrowed his brows in concentration.

_Ever since that...detestable day when Kadota came. Last month?_

_Was it only just last month?_

"Yeah..." Izaya murmured in the silent, capricious apartment. "One month..." His arm slid down, laying in his lap. He closed his eyes, tired. Yes, tired from everything. From thinking of the dreaded events coming up. From acting as if nothing affected him. Tired from running away. From lying to himself. From trying to pretend, to persuade himself, that he didn't give a damn about Shizuo's engagement. That he couldn't care less, delighted, even, that Shizuo was going to ignore him, once and for all.

He was going to lose Shizuo.

Shizuo, the horrible, wonderful, cruel, beautiful, reckless, straightforward brute who held all the reigns to Izaya. All of them-his heart, his mind, his body, his entire being. He couldn't think of anyone but that blonde, he wouldn't give everything for another soul but that man, he couldn't help but gravitate towards that heartless bastard whenever he was around, or even when Izaya was lost in his thoughts. His feet would automatically steer him into Ikebukuro, right to Shizuo.

All he wanted was for Shizuo to be there.

Why couldn't he see it?

All he wanted was for Shizuo to be his, in any way possible.

He couldn't possibly see it.

Shizuo was his everything.

Izaya couldn't remember the time before he met Shizuo, before he lived only for Shizuo. Why was it that he was living, then?

No one loved him.

No one cared.

They hated him. Out of jealousy, annoyance, ignorance.

They hated him.

So why did he live?

He couldn't remember. Maybe it was out of spite, to laugh in their faces that he was still better than them, always will be. Maybe it was to continue to annoy them, be that thorn in their side that they'll never be able to rid of. Always there, scraping that irritating wound open time and time again. Maybe it was to make them admit his importance, his superiority, his control over their lives. He made the ultimate decision, whether they livor or suffered, whether they liked it or not. Maybe, just maybe. He couldn't remember anymore.

Because it was then, that the person he hated the most plunged into his stoic life, turning everything upside down, inside out, and colors splashed in random blotches along the gray world he lived in.

_I hate him..._

Why _did_ he have to come and barge into his life?

Shizu-chan was the cruelest person in the world.

_I hate him..._

Why couldn't he have left him alone, in that desolate world, instead of forcing him to ride this roller coaster of a game that dragged him up, and threw him back down just as quickly, if not quicker?

_Only...for him._

Shizuo was his everything.

He was living, only for him.

If he could no longer claim him as his, why was he still living?

Why, in this world when everything else was dark, black, and horrid, and Shizuo was an unlikely spark of light, untainted, oblivious, to the corrupt world?

_Why am I still here, when he's already so far away from my grasp?_

* * *

><p>The days passed by slowly, dreadfully, yet when Izaya tried to think back on what he did the last two weeks, his memories were a blur. Who knew that one simple thing could change him so much? His days had passed with him doing the bare minimum of his work, living but not caring, letting time slip by just like that. He couldn't remember a time in his life when he had wasted so many precious hours when he could be gathering information, playing with other people's lives, or planning something entirely exciting to put in effect.<p>

So, that day, well into the first week of November, Izaya stood in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, smirking at his reflection. He watched himself slide a thin arm into the sleeve of a new fur-trimmed jacket he ordered online the other day, purposefully stretching his beautiful, long fingers through the opening and admiring the silver ring that complimented his index finger. Slipping his other arm through the jacket, Izaya reached for his beloved switchblade, flicked it open, and, deeming it satisfactory, he closed it and carefully set it in the pocket of his jacket.

Straightening himself, Izaya patted his clothes, making sure that everything about him was perfect and, after he was satisfied, ran a hand briefly through his raven locks.

"Stunning," he murmured, his crimson eyes twinkling and his smirk broadening.

No, he wasn't going to let that brute affect him anymore. No, Izaya was going to make his life even better, even greater without a certain blonde haunting his thoughts every other minute.

He refused to acknowledge that he was lying to himself.

Standing before the mirror, Izaya replicated a perfect image of himself, his usual self, before that person shoved him down the cliff and broke his legs. Metaphorically, that is.

An all-knowing smirk, a crimson pair of bright, mighty eyes, and a confident posture—the mask and appearance Izaya favored and used repeatedly. It had only been hidden away recently.

Pleased, Izaya turned away from the mirror and sauntered out into his office. He had ignored the dark circles still clinging under his eyes, the paler skin that didn't even see the moonlight anymore, and the clothes that 'seemed' looser on him than before. Well, that _was _one reason why he ordered new sets of outfits.

Surveying the mass of people down below, Izaya did a quick scan before spinning around to shut down his computer.

"Namie, I'm heading out for the day. When you're done with your work, you can leave whenever. Just don't forget to lock up!~" Either way, it would have been safe and secure, whether Namie locked the door or not. What with all his security, video cameras, and overdramatic protection. Knowing full well of that, Namie threw him a spiteful glare and resumed her work. Izaya kept smiling on, looking more excited than he had in weeks. Truth be told, he didn't really have anything to be excited about. Nothing was planned for the day, except that he was determined to get out and stay out. Maybe then, he'll be able to find something new to occupy his mind and return to his previous way of life and _enjoy _it.

"Bye-bye, Namie-chan!~" The door slammed shut.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_To be continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

May 12, 2012

**WARNING: The rating of this fanfic has been changed to M, due to the content of this chapter. I truly apologize to those of you who are reading this because of the T rating, but I don't plan to change this. Thank you to those of you who are still reading. I do hope you continue to enjoy this story and give me your support!**

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 7:**

* * *

><p>"Hey, Shizuo, want to stop and try this café?" The blonde beauty glanced up, eyes bright in the warm sunlight. Few clouds floated in the sky, and those that did were of a clean white, round and fluffy like wool. Funny that the weather chose to be generous and offer a beautiful day, albeit it was November already.<p>

Vorona walked beside Shizuo, still in his usual bartender suit, complete with his blue sunglasses. He tilted his head slightly, glanced at the store's name, and met Vorona's excited eyes. How could he refuse, when she looked so eager?

Releasing a soft sigh, a small smile gracing his lips, Shizuo relented and said, "Sure." Seeing Vorona's eyes light up even more, Shizuo slipped her hand in his and led her inside.

A soft _ding! _of the bell announced their entrance, and the employees shouted cheerful _Welcome!'s _at them.

The aroma of a variety of coffee attacked their olfactory senses, mingled with the sweet smell of cake, bread, and other pastries. It was a cozy little place, with the right lighting, the mocha-colored walls, and the displays of their sweets.

"Wow," Vorona muttered; only Shizuo heard. He felt the tips of his mouth twitch, holding his smile in place.

"Let's see what they have, hm?" Hand still in hers, Shizuo guided them up to the counter, glancing at all the cute, artistically designed desserts. Vorona's hand slipped away from his, opting to lay flat against the glass covering. His hand returned to its place in his pocket.

Too caught up with watching Vorona, and she in turn too fascinated by the cakes, Shizuo froze in surprise when an all too familiar voice reached his ears from the other side of the café.

"Oh, really?" It sounded like he was conversing quite happily with someone.

"Yeah! Maybe you should try that next time." A girl's voice. Shizuo turned his head in the direction of the conversation, desperately hoping his deduction was wrong.

"Hmm," Izaya responded, pretending to consider the brunette girl's recommendation. He brought his cup to his lips, parting them marginally to allow a small trickle of his drink in. Making a show of deciding whether or not he should listen to the girl, he creased his brows slightly before finishing what was in his mouth and smiling that ever-so-cunning grin.

"Actually, I think black coffee is still the best," he said, licking his lips.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion for Shizuo, as he watched Izaya converse with the cheerful brunette, who appeared to know the informant well enough to chat with him comfortably.

"Aw, you haven't even _tried_ mocha yet!" she laughed, as she began making another order. Izaya stayed where he was, seemingly not to care that the girl didn't give him her full attention, multi-tasking in her job.

"No, but I try to avoid anything sweet-tasting as much as possible."

The girl, no more than twenty, looked up, giving Izaya a dubious expression, with one eyebrow raised and a playful smile on her lips. "Now, don't tell me you're acting like a teenage girl who's trying to keep her figure."

Izaya shut his eyes and wagged his finger at her. "Tch, tch, tch. Chiyo-chan, that is beside the point." Directing his gaze back at her, he continued, "I simply don't like sweets."

The girl laughed softly and finished the order she was working on, as Izaya stood by, observing with a mixed expression that seemed to border on despondency.

Vorona was still glancing at the wide variety of desserts available. "Oh!" she murmured. "Doesn't this one look delicious? Oh, that one too... Which one should we get?" Vorona peeled her eyes away from the display of tempting sweets, twisting around to peer at Shizuo.

"Shizuo?" she asked upon seeing the distant, frozen expression plastered on her lover's face. Receiving no response, she followed the blonde's line of vision and paused, too, when she saw the notorious fur-trimmed jacket, raven-black hair, and his distinct way of moving—graceful, lithe, calm yet alert.

"Then what _do _you like? Everything bitter?" The brunette barista set the finished order of coffee on the counter and called for the customer, who came up immediately. The girl didn't catch the brief flinch that came across Izaya's face, which disappeared as abruptly as it appeared. After the usual "Thank you" and "You're welcome; have a nice day!", the customer left and the girl glanced back at Izaya, who met her gaze and had his perfectly molded mask back on flawlessly.

Even it if was back, though, perfect and just like usual, Shizuo had witnessed every second of that brief moment, his brain searing every tiny detail of it into his memory. He didn't know that it had been saved for future reference, which would later help him piece a puzzle with millions of pieces together.

Izaya smiled craftily at the barista he seemed so friendly with—which was quite suspicious in itself—and opted to leave her question hanging. He finally turned, ready to leave, and froze in the action.

Vorona was the one who wasn't frozen stiff between the three of them, but she decided not to tug Shizuo out of there. The two needed to sort things out, or at least calm down whenever they crossed paths, or else they wouldn't be able to move on in their lives—well, for Shizuo, at least. To Vorona, Izaya didn't seem to care whether or not Shizuo existed, really. For Shizuo, though, Vorona knew that if he didn't learn how to ignore Izaya and his actions, Shizuo would probably die a premature death, if not due to getting himself involved in Izaya's schemes, then definitely because of abrupt surges in blood pressure because of his uncontrollable wrath.

Regaining his composure—not like he lost it in the first place…—Izaya threw Shizuo the smile he knew would irritate the blonde.

"Shizu-chan!" He grabbed his cup and sauntered closer towards Shizuo, towards the exit. His eyes flickered briefly to Vorona, his expression turning cold for a millisecond, before he addressed them both. "Well! If it isn't Vorona, too!" Taking another sip of his black coffee, Izaya was as carefree as ever.

His expression never faltering, Shizuo held his stern gaze on Izaya. At least he was trying not to glare at him on sight.

Izaya, however, seemed delighted. Or, was it that he was so ecstatic for something that even encountering the monster he hated didn't affect his mood?

He glided past Shizuo and Vorona, with what seemed to be a half smirk and half smile on his face.

"Congratulations, Shizu-chan!~" He sang as he slipped by. "I can't believe you are actually getting married! It's inconceivable!"

Throwing his coffee cup in the trash bin, he spun around and concluded, "Let's try to get along now, 'kay?" With that, he lowered his voice, its tone changing to a more serious, more daring and teasing sound. "So don't go ruining my spectacular plans anymore, hm? You leave me alone, and maybe I'll leave you alone." Izaya reverted back to his usual nonchalant attitude.

Waving a careless hand, Izaya looked over his shoulder at Shizuo and said, "Now, bye-bye, Shizu-chan and his fiancée!" Looking straight at Shizuo, he warned, "Remember, use every cell in that one-cell brain of yours: don't come messing up my plans, 'kay?"

Izaya pushed the door open and left with flaunt, a smirk full on his lips.

* * *

><p>Walking down the street, Izaya cared not about stepping aside to make room for others. They were the ones who had to change their pace in order to accommodate the raven's, shifting to the side as Izaya 'happily' bounded down the middle of the sidewalk.<p>

He had no idea where he planned to go, no idea what he was going to do. His feet simply moved by habits nurtured through years of running down these streets, of wandering the exact same paths on chilly, starless nights. The sun, full in the pale, blue sky, was blindingly bright as it reflected off the high buildings.

It had already been a couple of months since he heard of Shizuo's engagement. Throughout those months, Izaya really didn't remember doing anything worthwhile.

What a lot of time he wasted.

Izaya inwardly reprimanded himself for being so weak, so utterly and pitifully controlled by that one blonde, who wasn't even aware of it. The delighted smirk on Izaya's lips dropped as he forgot to maintain his nonchalant attitude.

His pace slowed to a walk when he unintentionally reminded himself that if Shizuo knew that just a word from him—a brief look, even—could determine Izaya's mood for the entire week, whether it was glee or dejection, Shizuo would have taken advantage and shot the most hurtful of words at the raven.

Not that the blonde was the type to injure someone else on purpose, but that he wouldn't have believed he held such power over the flea he'd chased and mutually hated for over six years. With that logic of his, he'd have continued his insults, multiplied them, just to prove that Izaya wasn't affected.

_What would Shizu-chan think if he knew how weak I am?_

If he realized just how fragile Izaya was, would he still treat him with such hate and force?

_Would he be repulsed?_

He'd change his attitude to that of pity and hate, unwilling to exhibit the strong emotions he always displayed whenever he saw Izaya. He wouldn't want to be anywhere near Izaya for even more reasons that the raven frantically tried to hide.

_He'd try even harder to get me out of his life. He'd think I'm just like the others, easily able to get hurt and ruined by him, when I've so desperately tried to make him think otherwise. Just so I could let him know I'm different, make him notice me._

Izaya didn't pay attention to where he was going, blindly letting his legs carry him onward. Lost in his thoughts, he forgot that he had considered scrounging for some information on that one Amphisbaena group Shiki had mentioned.

He continued walking, turning corners here and there, getting lost in his thoughts. He strolled through the streets of Shinjuku and unconsciously reached Ikebukuro. By then, the sun had begun to set completely, the shift between night and day evident; office workers headed home, gang members swaggered out. Signs were flipped, lights switched on.

All the while, Izaya witnessed the change through a distant veil, trying to resume his old habits of observation, but realizing that it had become harder than he thought.

That was what made the sudden, harsh grip on his upper arm even more of a shock, when Izaya felt himself grabbed roughly and thrown against the wall, his back against it.

Before he had noticed, three unruly-looking men hovered over him, faces callous and permanently set in an intimidating scowl.

"You're Orihara Izaya, aren't you?" It came out sounding more like a threat than a question.

Izaya, who had instinctively held onto his bruised arm and crouched, leaning against the wall in caution, regained enough composure to put his smirk and the condescending glint back in his expression. He didn't take his hand away from the throbbing pain in his upper arm, though.

"And if I am? How may I help the three of you?" His voice carried high and clear, despite the tenseness spreading through his body. How could he not have noticed them?

Another man, the one on the side with an unsightly scar across his jawline, growled, "You fucking know what we want."

Izaya suppressed his flinch. Turning steady eyes on the man, he said, "I'm afraid I don't." Sweeping his gaze across the three of them, Izaya ran a list of different possibilities for escape through his mind, hurriedly trying to stall for time and find a way out.

He had been through this quite a few times before. None of them were pleasant, and the fortunate times he had gotten away in the nick of time…

"Quit fucking wasting time, you son of a bitches!" A shorter, more temperate of the gang members shouted, stepping closer to emphasize his point.

"Shit, you don't need to be so damn impatient." The man who had grabbed Izaya, the brawniest of the three, eyed Izaya like he was prey. "Why don't we have some fun, first?"

The raven unconsciously backed further into the wall. Always, in times like these, his brilliant brain had lost its ability to form words and coherent sentences to persuade the ruffians.

The third man "tched", but didn't back away. The first, who seemed like the leader, smiled a satisfied smile, turning to Izaya again. He came alarmingly close to the informant, close enough that the latter could smell his foul breath.

"Earthworm told us to teach you a lesson, but she didn't specify."

Izaya almost shuddered. Almost.

His appearance still didn't betray him just yet; he looked as if he could be chatting with these guys out at the park.

"For a man, you really do have pale, creamy skin." His large, rough hand brushed along Izaya's skin, scratching it along the way. "Just like a girl's."

"I wonder if he feels like one, too," commented the man with the scar.

"Oh, I do, too," said the leader.

"Fuck!—you son of a—" he shouted when the pain of Izaya's switchblade slashed along his arm.

"My, my. Speaking such obscene things! Sorry, but I don't have time to entertain any of you." Izaya had skimmed out of the circle, backing a safe distance away from them, towards the light of the main street.

Stopping he said, "I _am_ interested, however, in that 'Earthworm' person you mentioned. Who is she? What is she planning?" He was met with silence, so he continued, lowly, "Are you part of Amphisbaena?"

Again, they didn't reply. And again, Izaya noticed too late and felt himself being manhandled and violently pushed down on the floor; this time, the weight of a burly man stayed atop of him. A trickle of blood trailed down his forehead and out from his lips. He inwardly cursed himself and these men as the cold sheen of a knife pressed against his sensitive throat.

A deep voice whispered next to his ear, "Be good, now, and we'll spare your life." After receiving no response from Izaya for a few seconds, it seemed satisfied as it said, "Good. Good, 'cause you wouldn't have been able to leave either way. We don't wanna mar this beautiful body." Izaya felt a hand run along his sides, groping his ass. The beating of his heart pounded in his ear, and the alley sounded too silent for any sort of comfort, surrounding the area in an invisible shell that the outer world and its noises of cars, engines, chattering, and shops couldn't penetrate.

"Hey, don't you dare take all the fun!" The voice which sounded like the leader reverberated, way too loudly, through the dark alley. Izaya heard footsteps coming towards him, and he reached for his switchblade again.

It should be around here, somewhere.

"Ah, ah, ah," the man on top of him warned, immobilizing Izaya's arm with his knees. "Like I said, we don't wanna ruin this body if we don't have to. But…I'm tempted to." He dragged the sharp knife across the side of Izaya's neck, piercing the skin just enough to draw blood. "Oh…now that's beautiful."

Izaya could feel the stares of the other three men standing around them. He refused to let them get the better of him.

"Ya know, it's kinda boring if you don't make any sounds."

Izaya stayed silent.

"Is tha' so. I guess we'll just have to have a li'l more fun."

Izaya felt himself being wrenched up and thrown into the hands of another. He instinctively reached out to hold on, so as not to fall. Repulse soared through him after that millisecond of being so pathetic.

"Ahaha! Whoa there, it seems like you're not that unwilling!" The leader clutched his arms tightly, the vibration of his low laugh shaking Izaya, too.

_Fuck, god damn it._

A large part of his brain was beginning to resolve that he wouldn't be able to escape this time, just like the other encounters when he had been trapped.

"Pathetic! And when I thought he was something when that Heiwajima Shizuo dude had never caught him," the third, temperamental man scoffed.

Izaya flinched at that. He was able to keep his composure, act indifferent, to everything else, but Shizuo. _Shizuo_, only he made Izaya react.

The other part of his brain that refused to accept the situation pushed its way to the forefront and commanded Izaya to resist.

So he did.

Kicking the leader in between his legs, he jumped away to where his dropped switchblade should have been and grabbed for it.

"_Fuck_!" was the cry of pain.

"You little fucker!"

"Get the hell back here!"

"Who the hell do you think you are!"

Before Izaya could retaliate, the leader had him in his grips again and rammed him against the hard wall. His head hit the back of it, blacking him out for a second, his knees giving out below him. He grunted in pain.

"You son of a bitch," one of them cursed. Izaya didn't know who anymore; his head throbbed agonizingly, and his arms were hurting terribly, too.

"Just when the fun was about to start," another growled.

"Just fuck him and be done with it."

Grunts of approval ended their chatter, and rough hands ripped at Izaya's pants. The knife slashed opened his V-neck shirt, cutting skin at some points, exposing his skin and blood to the cold, night air. His head had definitely been brutally injured, as blood slid down his cheeks in a warm and wet sensation, and he slipped between consciousness and unconsciousness every few seconds, barely able to keep up with what they were planning to do to him.

A deep sigh of relief came from the man with the knife as he unzipped his own pants and freed his already hardened cock, palming it a few times. The leader turned Izaya around and pushed him onto his knees, those hands clutching onto his shoulders.

"Fucking hurry up, bastard."

"Alright, alright," the other man said irritably, stepping closer to Izaya. Positioning himself right behind him, the man couldn't resist squeezing his ass. "Damn, man, he's got a fucking soft ass. I can't wait to feel him suck my dick in." He slicked his own cock with his precum, and with both his hands, he pulled Izaya's butt cheeks apart and forced himself into the informant.

A scream of pain ripped through Izaya's throat, his body tensing at the unwanted, nauseating sensation, eyes clamping shut. No matter how many times it'd happened, Izaya would never get used to it.

The man behind him didn't care, moaning in ecstasy as he thrust in and out of the raven. The leader in front of Izaya slapped him across the cheek, shutting him up and sending him into a few more seconds of total darkness. The leader hurriedly unbuttoned his own pants to take his cock out, which was hard already, too. He twisted Izaya's face forward, wet with blood and tears of pain. He pushed the raven's jaw open and shoved his cock in the mouth.

"Fuck…" he hissed.

Izaya half-choked at the disgusting object, repulsed and feeling his stomach curl, ready to vomit.

"Fuck, he's tight! This li'l motherfucker can barely fit my cock in him!"

"Shut the fuck up, dumbass."

Both of them continued ramming into Izaya, one of them abusing his ass, the other raping his mouth. The man in the back grabbed onto both sides of Izaya's waist, steadying him as he thrust quicker and needier into him, stilling only when he released his cum inside of Izaya. He shoved his cock back and forth in Izaya a few more times before he grudgingly pulled out, a trail of the white substance connecting the tip of his cock to Izaya's ass.

The leader forcefully gripped Izaya's head and rammed his foul rod into the raven's mouth, moaning in pleasure at the warm wetness that surrounded his hardened cock. He soon shot his own load of cum into Izaya's mouth, and just like the other man, he refused to pull out just yet and forced Izaya's mouth on him for a while longer. Finally, he removed his cock from Izaya's mouth and stood up.

Gagging and coughing, fervently trying to spit the crap out of his mouth, Izaya's vision was blurred by the blood and tears falling down his face. The alleyway was silent, with the exception of the sounds of shuffling and Izaya's fervent coughing.

So when a deep, loud voice rang through the small area, heads turned in its direction, though Izaya continued to gag and his mind had been abused to the point that he didn't even care what was going on. He only wished he could be left alone, let him lay there, and just stay like that. Only this morning he'd determined to return to what he had always been doing, but _hah, I guess that won't ever happen now. Shizu-chan—_Izaya's coughing hit in a spasm. Thinking that short thought had sent a stab of pain to his temple. He didn't know what was going on around him, and he really didn't care.

"What the _fuck_ do you bastards think you're doing?" The new voice was steady, controlled, yet terrifyingly bloodcurdling. He stood at the entrance of the alleyway, bathed in the light of the fluorescent main street.

Mocha eyes scanned down and saw the gagging figure, kneeling and coughing uncontrollably. Those eyes travelled back to the four standing figures, understanding immediately that this was some sort of gang attack.

"Get away from him," he growled, a threat and a warning infused in the hushed sentence. His arms still in his pocket, the blonde dressed in a bartender suit was surprisingly calm.

"Who do you think you are, you bastard?" Eyes narrowed in an attempt to identify who the nosy blonde was.

"Oh, you're that Heiwajima Shizuo, aren't you?"

"Oh! Heiwajima-whatever."

"The one who throws tantrums all the time?"

Shizuo's eyebrows twitched in irritation. He had always been a man of few words, and an even shorter temper.

"Did you know that the 'flea' you're always chasing actually isn't that hard to catch?"

Now _that_ made Shizuo pay more attention to the filth spilling from their mouths. What did Izaya have to do with anything? Rather, what did _catching_ Izaya have to do with anything?

Before either of them could speak, the figure on the floor coughed even louder and sounded like he was vomiting.

"You fucking bastards, what did you do to him?" Shizuo's voice increased in volume, his anger ten seconds from snapping.

"Oh, nothing ya won't thank us for," one of them said haughtily.

Shizuo glared at them through his blue sunglasses, and in a split second he punched one of them squarely in the face and sent him flying some meters back. Before the others knew what had happened, he had wrung one of their arms and sent the man who had the knife sprawling on the floor. Another got the air knocked out of him when Shizuo's hard fist propelled him ten feet in the air and crashing down. The last of them, the leader, received a rib-breaking kick and had his head whacked down into the cement ground, consciousness quickly lost.

Groans of pain filled the alley as one or two of the men, who were still unfortunately awake, writhed in agony. The hacking and coughing lessened, but Izaya remained crouching, doubled-over, trying to regain his breath.

"Hey, are you alright?" Shizuo had no idea who he just saved.

Izaya had no idea Shizuo was even there.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_A/N: Oh, btw, a majority of you, my dear readers, has expressed concern about whether this will end Shizaya, or whether this is going to stay one-sided Shizaya. I completely forgot to clarify that I am definitely developing this into Shizaya. So please, bear with me as I work around the established VoronaxShizuo relationship, and the supposed Shikizaya interactions, as stated in the prompt. (Please refer to the beginning of the first chapter.) Without further ado, I hope you continue reading this story, and your reviews always motivate me even more to write faster. Thank you. ;)  
><em>


	8. Chapter 8

June 18, 2012

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 8:**

* * *

><p>"Hey—" Shizuo repeated, taking a step closer to Izaya. He was cut off when the raven jumped up and unsteadily pointed a switchblade at him, one hand pathetically holding onto his pants, trying to make them stay on. The button dangled loosely, the zipper refused to budge, and the front was ripped with a large gash.<p>

Both froze, one in shock and one in delirium.

"Fle—Iz…" Shizuo couldn't form the correct word. Heck, he couldn't even decide on which name to use. Staring at the man pointing the blade at him now, he noticed the blood splattered all over him, and dripping down his face, his chin; the contrast of the blood on the man's pale skin was evident even in the darkness of the backstreet. Looking down at the hand holding the switchblade, Shizuo saw the slight shaking, the blood and other liquid and dirt mixed together on the blade and hand.

Shizuo's eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing, and Shizuo himself couldn't believe the situation.

"Ha! Ahahaha!"

Shizuo stood, wide-eyed, when Izaya threw his head back and laughed, bordering on maniacal.

"Ah, I seriously am going insane. Shizu-chan?" Izaya peered at him, eyes half-open from the blood, and an outlandish grin on his face.

The blonde was about to answer with a gruff, _"What?" _when Izaya scoffed.

"Ha! Now I'm seeing Shizu-chan here. Haha…hahaha!" Izaya stumbled backwards, his blade flinging dangerously as he lost control of his movements.

"Maybe I'm just going to die here," he mumbled.

Shizuo was having a hard time keeping up with what Izaya was talking about.

"Seeing Shizu-chan…"

Izaya stumbled sideways and collapsed onto the floor, his knees giving out beneath him. That jolted Shizuo out of his confusion and shock, making him rush over to the raven, shaking him.

"Hey, flea—Izaya, hey!" Panic began to course through him; he had never seen Izaya in such a state before. This was too out of the ordinary, too bizarre, too unlike Izaya that Shizuo forgot his hate for the man for the time being. Heck, he didn't even think he knew who man was—most certainly not Izaya, was he?

He shook Izaya some more, until the latter groaned softly in pain. His eyelids fluttered and cracked open slightly, but what with the dim lighting, Shizuo couldn't tell.

"Hey, are you alright? What the hell happened?"

"…Shizu…chan…haha…"

Shizuo really didn't know how to respond to that.

"Hey, wait! Don't fall asleep! C'mon, I'll take you to Shinra's."

An arm shot up and gripped onto the cuff of his shirt.

"N-no…not Shinra…"

"Why not! You're fucking bleeding to death, I don't know what the hell happened to your head, and you just got ra—" Shizuo choked on the word, but thankfully, Izaya didn't seem to hear.

"Shi..ki…san will…know…"

"Shi…" Shizuo's eyebrow rose interrogatively. "Shiki-san? Who the hell is he?" Shizuo knew he shouldn't be talking so crudely to anyone as disorientated as Izaya, but he couldn't help it if he was pissed beyond comprehension, not to mention confused as Hell.

"Shi…zu…ch…" Izaya's grip on consciousness was slipping away again.

"Damn it, that's _me_, you louse." Even if he hated that blasted name, he'll use it if he damn well had to.

Izaya's hand dropped from Shizuo's shirt, and immediately Shizuo patted his face.

"Hey, hey, wait! Don't sleep!" Izaya didn't respond. "_God damn it!" _Shizuo cursed under his breath and scooped Izaya into his arms. If anyone were to ask him why he did that, he wouldn't be able to answer, not now, not later. Especially not later, because he wouldn't be able to explain so many more things that would happen 'later'.

All he knew was that even if this was the flea, the one he'd always claimed he'd gladly see dead, Shizuo wasn't going to leave him lying on the ground, beaten, battered, and dirty.

"Wake up," Shizuo chastised, shaking Izaya in his arms. He felt Izaya stir a little, so he continued, "Where do you live?"

"Not…telling…"

Shizuo only knew the general location where the louse lived, and he needed to keep him talking.

"Just tell me how I can get there without having to use the main street."

"…mmnn…"

Shizuo shook him again.

"C'mon, tell me where to go."

"…down there…" He coughed, sensible enough to turn his head away from Shizuo's chest.

"And then?"

"Make…a right…"

As Shizuo thought of something to say, he heard Izaya mumbled, "Shizu-chan…"

"What do you want?" Shizuo said in attempted irritation.

"…is so real…"

"Of course I'm fucking real!"

"…ha...ha…"

"You think this is a joke or something?" Shizuo couldn't bring himself to do anything more than shout in hushed control, afraid of shaking Izaya too much. Who knew if he accidentally broke a rib or something? If it wasn't already broken… "Right, and then where?"

"…Straight…keep…" Izaya's head rolled and settled in the area between Shizuo's chest and upper arm. "…so…warm…"

Shizuo kept quiet. How was he supposed to reply to that?

"Straight…"

"Yeah, I'm going straight."

"Left…"

The way Izaya mumbled made Shizuo question whether the raven actually remembered the directions, or if he was just spouting random crap.

"Yeah, left. And then where?"

Izaya's hand crawled over to press against Shizuo's chest, resting there.

"So real…Shizu…chan…" The last of his words trailed into soft, indistinct murmurs.

Shizuo sighed, letting it go for now.

"Yeah, I made the left. Now where?"

Why was he even doing this?

"Right…there…"

_Ah, who gives a damn._ Shizuo looked around in front, but he didn't recognize the buildings, and nor did they look like housing complexes. "I don't see it."

"Right…"

Shizuo stopped, standing right in the middle of an unrecognizable path, dark and hidden from sight. He glared down at Izaya, though it didn't come out quite like what he wanted.

"Flea, do you know where we're going?"

"Haha…no…?" Izaya laughed into Shizuo's chest, instinctively nuzzling closer to the warmth. His finger attempted to slide back and forth against the fabric of Shizuo's shirt, but it was more of a soft brush against it. He inhaled deeply and took his time to let it back out.

"Izaya," Shizuo gritted.

"Haha, Shizu-chan," Izaya mumbled. "Right…and it'll be there…"

_Oh_, Shizuo thought. He continued walking again. Soon, he saw the familiar, high-end building of Izaya's flat.

"Wait, flea. Is there a back way or something?"

Izaya didn't reply, seemingly asleep. His breathing was slow and steady, so Shizuo deemed that he should be fine, and let him sleep.

Scanning the back of the complex, Shizuo looked for ways to get into the place without having to go through the front. With Izaya bleeding and sullied in this state, walking through the front doors and acting as if it nothing unusual happened was out of the question.

Just with Shizuo _carrying_ the flea would trigger alarms.

Everyone would think he was the perpetrator, coming in with Izaya in his arms as a prize and flaunting his victory.

Shizuo shook the thought away in abhorrence. He would never do that, flea or not. Reluctantly glancing down at the sleeping Izaya, Shizuo noticed how that face contained such a range of expressions, albeit unconscious. It was a confusing combination of pain, despondency, and fatigue. Yet, it was also serene, a hint of happiness that he was asleep, shielded from whatever was plaguing him.

The thought of waking him up nagged uncomfortably at Shizuo. The man in his arms reminded him nothing of Izaya. Shizuo couldn't quite grasp the idea that this person and the flea were the same; true, they had the same face—albeit the bruises and blood, but this just couldn't be Izaya.

Izaya who permanently wore that condescending smirk.

The Izaya who constantly slipped from Shizuo's pursuits time after time.

_The_ Izaya who always had the upper hand.

—was now bloodied, limp, weak, and fragile in his arms.

Unconsciously, Shizuo's grip around Izaya tightened, causing a whimper of pain to escape Izaya's throat, eyes clenching in protest. Immediately, Shizuo relaxed his fingers, guilt brewing in him. He had forgotten his strength in the midst of his frustration…and he had never seen Izaya display any signs of being in pain.

No, not even when a flying vending machine scraped at his sides, or when a public trash can smashed him into the ground.

He had bounced right back up like one of those Daruma dolls. Shizuo grew so accustomed to it that he never thought twice about hurting the raven.

Eyes lingering on Izaya's face, Shizuo's mouth opened slightly in an attempt to yell at him. He tried; he tried to muster enough conviction to shake Izaya awake and growl at him to get them inside already.

He really tried.

But all he could do was hold Izaya in his arms, lips parted, and stare. Why couldn't he shout at him? Why wasn't he angry?

Maybe it was because the injured, bruised person in his arms didn't remind him remotely of Izaya. Unsure, confused, and completely frustrated at the entire situation, Shizuo irritably decided not to think about it anymore and just get the raven inside. He'll deal with things when they come.

"Izaya," he said softly, surprising himself when his voice came out smoothly, gently, clearly.

Shaking him slightly, just enough to disrupt his sleep, Shizuo repeated, "Izaya."

The informant stirred, his eyelids beginning to lift, but the blood and tears drying up on his skin convinced him otherwise.

"Do you hear me, flea?" The bite crept back into Shizuo's voice. Now that Izaya was regaining consciousness, old habits came back, too.

"…nnhh…?" Izaya's trapped arm, between him and Shizuo's chest, moved in an attempt to find balance.

"No, stop moving. You're fine, so just sit still." Shizuo had no idea whether or not Izaya had sustained terrible injuries; he wasn't one smart enough to know, nor did he get hurt nearly frequent enough to tell.

He assumed Izaya would be fine, really…at least for now.

"…an…"

"What?" Shizuo started walking again, towards a structure that looked like it might possibly be helpful it he was to bring Izaya up a few floors.

Izaya rubbed his face against the fabric of Shizuo's vest, pushing against his chest. Half-asleep still, he had no idea what was going on. Maybe this was a dream; a horrible, painfully beautiful dream that will rip his heart into more pieces than it already was shattered into once he woke up.

"Flea—Izaya. Tell me how to get into your apartment without alerting security."

"…chan…" A smile tugged at the corners of Izaya's lips, but his condition prevented the smile from forming.

"_Yes_," Shizuo gritted. "Now tell me how to get in there already!"

Izaya's eyes stayed closed, and for a few seconds it seemed he hadn't heard. When Shizuo started to debate whether he should call to him again, Izaya mumbled against his chest, "I don't care…Shizu-chan, I don't care anymore." The dropped smile tugged at the tips of Izaya's bloodied lips again, and Shizuo furrowed his brows in confusion and frustration. What didn't he care about? Getting inside?

Why was he smiling, when he was in such a state, acting as if this was nothing new?

Why did he look so relieved, as if a huge ton weight had been lifted off his back?

Shizuo opened his mouth, about to say irritably, _'No, you damn flea, just tell me where to go,' _but his voice got stuck in his throat.

Sighing, frustrated at the entire escapade, Shizuo shifted Izaya in his arms to a more comfortable, more fitting position and started walking again.

He scaled the building, and thanks to his years of self-taught parkour chasing after Izaya, Shizuo found the places where Izaya would likely have used if he was trying to sneak back into his own flat.

Attempting such a feat with said man in his arms was nothing spectacular, nor easy. Even worse, Shizuo had to make sure he didn't thrash the raven around, else risk giving the thin, broken man more concussions and bruises than necessary.

After several close calls and multiple series of curses, Shizuo made it onto the tiny balcony of the flat.

"Fuck," he swore for the umpteenth time within that hour. The door was, of course, locked. Softly setting Izaya down and leaning him against the railing, Shizuo turned back towards the door handle. Glaring at it, he had a short moment of internal conflict before, just like always, he gave in to the most obvious solution—rip the darn thing right off.

Quick, easy, and, well, exceedingly impetuous.

_Ah, who gives a damn._

The lock on sliding door broke, the force of Shizuo's action sending the door slamming against the wall.

Izaya, however, didn't stir.

Staring at Izaya, defenseless, fatigued, sullied, battered—everything Shizuo never thought _could_ be Izaya, the blonde asked himself just what he was doing.

Unable to come up with a response to himself, Shizuo sighed, bent down, and carried Izaya inside, stumbling here and there and letting loose a few more curses in the unfamiliar, dark, and chilly abode.

* * *

><p>He didn't know he had fallen asleep until he slowly stirred and blinked the drowsiness from his eyes. The room, still dark, indicated that not too much time had passed. At least, it was not past sunrise.<p>

Pushing himself up into a more comfortable sitting position, Shizuo remembered that he was in Izaya's flat, and he had fallen asleep on the informant's sleek, black couch. Sitting in the dark, barely noticing the coldness of the night—or morning, was it?—Shizuo groggily tried to piece together the last few hours before he fell asleep on the couch…

.x.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_To be continued..._


	9. Chapter 9

July 25, 2012

_.x. means time skip to the past._

_.xx. means time skip ends, the story returns to present time._

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 9 -  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Pushing himself up into a more comfortable sitting position, Shizuo remembered that he was in Izaya's flat, and he had fallen asleep on the informant's sleek, black couch. Sitting in the dark, barely noticing the coldness of the night—or morning, was it?—Shizuo groggily tried to piece together the last few hours before he fell asleep on the couch…<p>

.x.

After finding Izaya's meticulously clean room, Shizuo had set him on the queen bed and stood dumbly for a few minutes, trying to think what exactly he should do.

To tell the truth, Shizuo did not have any first-aid knowledge at all, and Izaya's condition was not necessarily just "first-aid" classified, anyways. Whenever Shizuo had gotten grazed, he'd gone to Shinra for all and any medical advice. Actually, he wouldn't have gone at all if not for the doctor's insistence after one particular incident when Shizuo had slapped a few bandages on a rather deep cut.

So no, he had no idea how to deal with Izaya after he dropped him on the bed.

The sight of the raven's bruised skin against the usual pale whiteness caused an unsettling feeling in his gut. The bright light in Izaya's room made it clear and obvious just how badly those bastards had abused the man. Shizuo felt revolted, his brain refusing to understand how anyone could do such a thing, to Izaya or not.

After unwillingly staring at Izaya's face for longer than comfortable, Shizuo realized that the raven still had blood smeared across his cheeks and mouth—and was that a cut across his throat?

Shizuo bent down in alarm, tilting Izaya's head up too abruptly, causing a groan from the raven, who still held on to a thin line of consciousness. Shizuo immediately jerked his hand away, the memories of accidentally hurting others all too vivid in his mind.

Pictures of fear. Of shock. Of anger. Of hatred. All in countless pairs of eyes glaring back at him…

He hadn't meant to—he'd never wanted to—hurt that lady at the bakery…

Shizuo hovered above Izaya, stiff and frozen in place, as a brief flash of that scene crossed his widened and pained mocha eyes.

As quickly as it came, Shizuo blinked and noticed the tenseness of his body. Glancing down at Izaya, he remembered that he should find a cloth to clean him at least a little bit.

Finding the bathroom, Shizuo scanned the area until his eyes caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror. Blots of red stained his sleeves and the front of his shirt. The ones on his vest were less noticeable, as it was black.

He…

_I…_

Shizuo shook the thought away.

He looked—

_I look—_

Ripping off the first towel he came across from where it was hanging, Shizuo turned the sink on and plunged the towel right underneath the stream of water, the steady sound of the falling liquid filling Shizuo's ears and distracting him from any other thoughts.

Once he returned to the room, he began to wipe the filth off Izaya's face. The latter barely stirred, shifting his face a few times when Shizuo dragged the cloth a bit too harshly against the pale skin. He was too far gone to know; his body only reacted upon natural instincts, protecting him from pain.

As he worked, Shizuo's brain functioned mechanically, shielding him from having to accept the situation, letting him push emotions and sense deep down in his mind. He was seeing this through a veil, disconnected. Even though his body was there, right there, tending to Izaya, his heart and mind was shut away, hidden behind a dazed-like denial, for he couldn't understand how Izaya had gotten himself like this, seemingly accepting it like something usual. What was normal about this? Scratch that, what was _normal _about Izaya?

…What was normal about Shizuo?

Taking one last wipe at Izaya's face, Shizuo decided that was all he could do. Carefully, he stood up and set the towel aside. He shut the lights off and left the room, pulling his cellphone out along the way. It illuminated his face in the darkness of Izaya's abode. As Shizuo reached the couch, the screen highlighted his trusted friend's name—Kadota.

Staring at the glowing screen for a few seconds, Shizuo finally sat down and pressed the 'Call' button. Apprehensively, Shizuo put the device to his ear.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep—_

"Hello?"

Was this really happening? Shizuo's mouth opened slightly to speak, but no sound came out. His vision focused on something in the dark apartment and his hands fisted up, his fingers wrapping tightly around his cellphone; he didn't know what else to do.

"…Hello? This is Shizuo, right?" The voice on the other end was a mix between confusion and concern. Shizuo rarely called anyone.

"Yeah," the blonde finally replied, his eyes still trained on that one thing across the room. His elbows dug into his thighs.

"…" Kadota waited for him to continue. "So…Shizuo, what is it?"

"Yeah…—Ah, can you give me some of your time?" He really didn't know how to go about explaining this. Letting out a sigh, he ran his free hand through his dyed hair and dropped his head back against the couch.

Kadota, standing somewhere in the middle of Ikebukuro beside Togusa's car, furrowed his brows. "Right now?" His eyes followed Erika, who was prancing around excitedly, her lips moving faster than Kadota thought possible.

"Yeah," was Shizuo's monotonous reply again.

"What do you mean?"

"I…need you to come over to Izaya's place."

Kadota's eyes stopped, Erika falling out of his line of vision. Did he hear correctly? He paid closer attention to what Shizuo was saying, straightening up from his leaning position. "Come over? Are you there right now?"

Shizuo's grip on his phone tightened as his hand covered his eyes. "Yeah," he repeated.

"…" Kadota's mind spun and juggled the information, trying to make sense of it, but came up with nothing. "I'll be over soon."

"Yeah, thanks. Bye."

—_Click— _

Kadota was cut off before he could ask just what the heck Shizuo was doing, and why he wanted him over to _Izaya's_ apartment, of all places.

* * *

><p>Two soft knocks.<p>

Shizuo lifted himself from the couch, exhaled a puff of smoke from his cigarette, and walked over to the door.

Unlocking it, he pulled it towards himself and saw Kadota's wary and concerned eyes.

"Shizuo," he said, "What's going on?"

Shizuo didn't reply, only stepped aside to let Kadota in and shut the door. The perspicacious friend glanced around and smelled the strong odor of nicotine in the whole apartment. It was the only thing he could truly focus on, for the place was dark, save for a few stray rays of light from the city and Izaya's appliances.

Giving Shizuo a stern gaze, Kadota asked, "Just how much did you smoke?"

Shizuo shrugged slightly, and started walking. Kadota followed close behind.

"I got here as fast as possible, but it still took half an hour. Now tell me what's going on."

"You'll see," Shizuo said negligently. He kept on heading toward Izaya's bedroom, flipping the light back on when he was right at the door.

Kadota's eyes immediately landed on Izaya's sleeping form, at first not understanding, until he noticed the torn clothing and bruising skin. Shizuo had cleaned away most of the filth, which Kadota didn't see until later that night.

"What the hell?" he gasped out, trying not to rush over to his unconscious friend. Shizuo stayed back.

"I found him and brought him back, but I'm not going as far as to take care of him," Shizuo spit out, trying to maintain his usual attitude of enmity towards Izaya, but his voice was much softer than what he intended, shocking himself.

Kadota turned his head back towards Shizuo. "Then why didn't you call Shinra?"

Shizuo looked away and muttered, "He didn't want to get Shinra."

Kadota continued to give the blonde a stern gaze, trying to pressure him into speaking. He sighed in defeat when he knew that Shizuo wasn't going to elaborate. He straightened, pulled off his beanie, and ran a hand through his hair, loosening it from its flattened state.

"Fine. I'll try, but seriously," he looked back up at Shizuo, "what do you expect me to do?"

Shizuo didn't know what to say. He'd never seen Izaya like this before, he'd never dealt with a situation like this before, and he'd never thought Kadota would look so concerned and helpless.

So he resorted to his brusque attitude.

"Just slap a few bandages on him or something. I don't care." With that, he turned and stepped out into the living room.

Kadota sighed again, glancing down at Izaya. With barely any idea of how to deal with Shizuo, and especially Izaya, he went to look for something that may resemble a first-aid kit.

.xx.

"You're awake?" Kadota's voice came from somewhere in the dark.

Shizuo looked up, his eyes squinting shut when the blinding lights switched on.

"I didn't think you were still here; I thought you'd left after telling me to watch Izaya."

Shizuo reached for his pack of cigarettes he had negligently threw on the coffee table.

Only one left.

Shizuo made an irritated "tch" sound and pulled it out. He had bought that pack just yesterday.

"It was late," he muttered. "So I just slept."

Kadota watched the blonde, gauging his reactions.

"How'd he get like that?"

"…I don't know."

Kadota's stare didn't waver. Shizuo didn't meet his eyes, preferring to stare at nothing in particular to the side.

"Fine, but—"

He was cut off when Shizuo abruptly stood up, mashing his cigarette into the ash tray Izaya kept for his clients. He slipped both his hands into his pockets and finally looked at Kadota; his mocha eyes were shielded, indifferent, expressionless.

"I'm leaving now. Say you helped him back."

"Wait, Shizuo—" Kadota hurriedly got to his feet, trying to stop Shizuo. "Why don't you tell him you…"

Shizuo stopped, back still towards Kadota.

"Tell him what?" His voice dripped with malice. "Tell him that I saw him beaten up? That I saw him getting raped? That I took—pity on him? Yeah, what do you think will happen after that?" Shizuo growled irritably.

Kadota knew just what would happen after that. Izaya was not the type to let anyone see him in any way other than the one with the upper hand. He didn't reply to the rhetorical question. But he did utter, "What did you say happened?"

Shizuo's expression froze on his face, trying not to lose control. "Nothing," he bit out, turning to the door.

Giving up trying to convince Shizuo to stay, which was probably not a much better choice, Kadota said, "Be careful on your way back."

"Yeah," Shizuo replied, his temper dissolving now that he realized that he had snapped at his friend who only wanted to help. "I'll see you around," he finished as he shut the door behind him.

The air was still cold; it was going to stay that way for a long while more, since it was still just the beginning of November.

Winter was never a pleasant season for Shizuo. He hated the cold, hated the dreariness of it all. How could anyone live alone in such a desolate season?

As the unpleasant wind slapped at his face from time to time, Shizuo let his instincts and habits take him back to Ikebukuro as he lost himself in his thoughts.

* * *

><p>Kadota sighed, taking Shizuo off his mind for now and went back into Izaya's room.<p>

"…Dotachin?" Izaya mumbled.

Kadota sighed at the annoying nickname but let it go.

"How are you feeling?"

Izaya glanced around his own room, seemingly not to know that he was back home.

"Splendid," he said, his voice indicating otherwise, and he was still trying to piece everything together. Finally, he gave up and looked over at Kadota, who was beside his bed.

"Why are you here, Dotachin?"

Kadota hesitated, wondering what he should tell Izaya. He, himself, didn't know the full situation, only that Shizuo apparently brought Izaya back from some horrible incident.

He sighed, deciding that telling Izaya what he knew or not wouldn't make a difference. This was the infamous informant, anyways. So, why not save himself the trouble of having to think of excuses?

"Shizuo called me to come take care of you, or at least clean you up."

Izaya froze, his eyes losing their glint and turning dull and void. Kadota ran a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what happened; Shizuo wouldn't say. I don't know why he called me instead of Shinra, but apparently you told him not to."

Izaya felt his heart grow cold and almost stop beating. Dread pulled at his stomach. This was not happening. Shizuo did not see him like that. No.

Kadota could see the conflicting disappointment and relief in Izaya's eyes. He had known Izaya since high school; he'd figured out the raven's feelings sometime around then, or at least suspected it.

"Was he here?" Izaya barely breathed out. His eyes hurt from the lights, and no matter how hard he tried to pry his lids open, they refused. Sighing what little breath he had in him, Izaya relaxed and decided just to keep his eyes closed and let Kadota deal with whatever state he was in.

"Who are you talking about?" Kadota tried avoiding the question. Act oblivious. Maybe he meant Shinra.

If Izaya was able to stare Kadota down, he would have. The man knew exactly who he meant. Izaya stayed silent, lying there on his bed.

Kadota stood there beside the bed, watching Izaya and trying to understand and find a hint to the raven's thoughts.

The silence hung in the air. Kadota finally gave up and pulled a chair beside Izaya's bed.

Izaya heard the shuffling and felt Kadota's presence next to him. Still, he didn't move nor acknowledge his old friend. The tension hung in the air, which only lessoned when Kadota sighed and held his head in his hands, elbows on his knees.

Izaya tried opening his eyes, slowly, and he was more successful this time. He blinked, getting used to the light. Still, he stared straight ahead, at some random spot on his gray walls and white ceiling, not wanting to make contact with Kadota. Not that he had the energy to twist his head to the side, anyways.

"Should I call Shinra over?" Kadota mumbled.

Izaya breathed in, breathed out.

"No."

"Izaya, what are you thinking?" Kadota asked. It was almost a whisper, a soft mumble because he didn't know if he wanted to know the answer or not. What could he do? Both were his friends, albeit he preferred never to have met them, Shizuo and Izaya.

Izaya turned his head. The sheer coldness, defeat, in those eyes, chilled Kadota right to the core. The world had become dull, grey, and lifeless. Even the usual gleaming crimson faded behind murky, dark brown.

When did the cunning raven ever display any emotion in those eyes other than disconcerting glee?

And now he lay there, a pitiful, wretched mess, crimson eyes confused, defeated, helpless.

Did he really want an answer? Kadota wanted to reassure his old friend, to tell him that he shouldn't reply. Forget about it. Let's pretend it never happened...

The silence in that room was the loudest moment in Kadota's life. Everything, all senses, was heightened and time seemed to have slowed down.

Kadota saw the opening of Izaya's mouth, the movement of those hesitant, ripped lips in clear focus. The words came later, and comprehension was even more delayed.

"I can't...anymore, Kadota. I can't keep this up anymore..." Izaya blinked slowly, his eyelids heavy. Keeping them open took so much energy...the room faded and returned, Kadota's silhouette there... He tried to keep them open, but he just couldn't. It was all so...it was so...

"...I can't..." The raven mumbled, drifiting away from consciousness.

When Izaya's breathing evened and slowed, Kadota leaned back into his seat and ran a hand through his hair yet again. The ceiling was white, smooth. What was he to do?

Izaya's soft breathing was the only sound in the room; Kadota didn't have anything to do but sit and watch him, making sure that the raven wasn't going to have any sudden spasms. Really, what was Shizuo thinking? No matter what, Shinra should have been the choice person to call upon.

Kadota stretched his legs out and sighed. Izaya and Shizuo…how he wished he never knew them.

.

His reddened fingers wrapped around the door handle. Just that morning, everything had been normal; he'd strolled through the usual Ikebukuro streets with Tom, repeating the same routine in the bright sun and stinging cold air of November. The day went fairly well, and by the time it hit noon, Shizuo sustained a hidden excitement at the tranquility and smoothness of his life for the past few days.

His knuckles showed white as he tightened his grip. He should have known. That was only the calm before the storm. It already seemed like a lifetime away, that morning.

Opening the door to his apartment, the world suddenly came back in sharp focus. A warm light filtered through the room. The aroma of once-warm takeout food lingered in the air and the change in temperature from one side of the door to the other relaxed the stiff state his muscles had been in.

Habitually, Shizuo set his shoes to the side, his fingers already tugging at the bow at his neck.

He stopped mid-step when a soft shade of gold caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Realization dawned in his eyes, growing wide in shock. He'd forgotten…hah, what a great guy he was.

_Yeah, right._ Shizuo scoffed at himself.

Vorona slept with her head resting on her forearms, crossed on the table. Takeout food laid bundled and unopened in their plastic, white bags and smaller bags of what Shizuo guessed were dessert sat sloppily at the side.

A pang of guilt hit Shizuo right in the chest, even more so when he felt a twinge of delight that she had actually waited for him.

Tugging once more at his bow, Shizuo loosened it around his neck and unbuttoned the lower part of the collar of his bartender uniform. He stuffed his hand inside the pocket of his pants and pulled out whatever was in them—not much. He set the empty box of cigarettes, his cellphone, and whatever else mingled in on the table and grabbed the bags as gently as possible. He hoped the bags wouldn't rustle so loudly…oh, come on, be quiet—

He was halfway to the kitchen when he heard Vorona stir. He bit his lower lip and hurried into the kitchen as quickly as possible to put the food in the fridge.

"Shizuo?"

He heard the muffled, sleepy mumble and swore below his breath. He had woken her.

He didn't hear her come into the kitchen until he looked up and she asked, "Are you all right?" She stood at the kitchen entrance, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

Her Japanese had gotten much better, not as choppy and awkwardly formed as when he first met her.

Shizuo looked at the Russian beauty, his kouhai, his lover, with both relief and shame building inside him. That was the first thing she asked him.

_Are you all right?_

She wasn't even interested in why he was so late, why he didn't come back earlier. She wasn't angry that he made her wait. She only wanted to know about him, truly cared. He was such a failure as her partner.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_To be continued..._

_(And some feedback would be delightful.)  
><em>


	10. Chapter 10

September 29, 2012

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 10:**

* * *

><p>"Yeah," he said, shutting the door of the refrigerator and walking over to Vorona. "I'm sorry," he continued softly, looking down into her drowsy eyes. He brushed his hand against her cheek. His eyebrows creased—in concern, was it?—as he looked at her.<p>

Vorona shook her head slightly, leaning into his palm, though he couldn't read her face, expressionless as usual. She stepped closer to him.

Shizuo put his hand on her waist and pulled her against his chest. After being together for a while now—even being _engaged_—he still felt hesitant at such close touches. He didn't go without a girlfriend for twenty-three years of his life for no reason…

"Sorry," he repeated. What was he supposed to say? He'd never been good with words.

Vorona didn't reply, only rubbing her face into his chest a few, slow times. She wrapped her arms around him and held on.

She breathed in deeply, finding comfort in his embrace. Is this love?

_Love - a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person._

_Love, a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection._

She had never experienced it before. She had thought that was what she had wanted all along from her father, love. That wasn't the case though. She had come to Japan, was able to come, because she didn't care for love.

So maybe it was love.

She spoke into Shizuo's vested shirt. "It was cold today." She breathed in. "It reminded me…of Russia."

They stood in silence. Both were never ones to wear their emotions on the ends on their sleeves. Shizuo always had to wonder, why _did_ Vorona choose him, stay with him? Everyone else kept their distance, terrified of his temper and inhuman strength.

How could he know that he wouldn't accidentally hurt her one day? He couldn't imagine any time when would be angry at her…much less that he'd need to destroy something in order to release his anger.

But…what if?

What if he did?

"I'm sorry," Shizuo mumbled above Vorona's head. He closed his eyes and rested his chin atop her platinum blond hair.

Vorona stayed still, until she finally pulled her head back and looked up at him. She tried to decipher what was in his eyes.

"I negate."

Confusion flickered across Shizuo's face before he couldn't help but smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes, though.

"Do you want to eat? I put the food away because I didn't want to wake you."

"Feeling of hunger is no more." Her expression was blank, with maybe a hint of complete seriousness in her eyes. She stared at Shizuo, taking in his every detail, and noticed the small, miniscule evidence of filth.

She pulled back, holding Shizuo at arm's length. The latter watched her, mildly confused and curious. What was she looking at? What _was _there to look at?

He was just wearing his usual outfit…his bartender uniform—

_Oh, goddamnit._

"Vorona?" He tried to make it sound normal, not hesitant.

She didn't reply, only scrutinized him from head to toe with her keen eye. He had no doubt that she noted each and every stain of red and smeared off-white on his clothes, even though he'd tried to clean up as best he could. He didn't like the marks on him, either. No.

In that bathroom…in that mirror—

No, he mustn't think about that.

His eyes focused and saw Vorona looking up at him intently. They stared at each other, no words needed, a silent conversation.

Until she finally asked, "Such stains of battle, from where did you get them?"

Shizuo feigned oblivion, glancing at his own clothes as if he hadn't noticed Izaya's blood and other filth sticking to his vest, his sleeves, refusing to be washed away.

"Nothing much," he said. Their eyes met again, and he hesitated. He wasn't necessarily lying, no. But those eyes, Vorona's eyes—so direct and definite, without any hint of doubt—Shizuo felt his voice creep up his throat and get stuck there.

Why he hesitated to tell Vorona the whole story, he didn't know. Surely, this was just the flea. The annoying prick in his side that he'd always complained about, wanted to be rid of.

But that feeling stayed.

The nagging sense in his gut that that night's incident was more than… He didn't know what. Why couldn't he tell it to Vorona?

"No, just the damn flea," Shizuo finally concluded, slowly dropping his arms from Vorona and turning to the sink. He half-heartedly scrubbed his sleeves under the faucet. The sound of running water filled his ears, quickly taking his mind back…back to—

Shizuo almost flinched when Vorona lightly placed her hand on his forearm, but he managed to hold it back in time. He hoped she didn't notice, and when he glanced at her, it seemed that way.

"Affirmative, that my uses are not needed? To be rid of him."

Shizuo's mind ran with an overflow of conflicting thoughts. As usual, the first thing that came to his mind was that she mustn't think about killing. No, not even if the person was Izaya. But in addition, a smaller, newer thought caught him off guard. He felt uncomfortable to _want_ Izaya dead. He'd been saying that line for years and years, but today, tonight.

He couldn't wish the raven to be dead.

Blinking out of his moment of disassociation with reality, Shizuo turned back towards the sink and pushed the faucet handle down. The loss of the sound of running water made his senses even more on edge. He didn't notice how tense his muscles were in his attempt to appear normal. Vorona watched silently, processing every detail into her brilliant mind, but she didn't ask questions. She tried to put the pieces together by herself, all out of habit. Being an assassin, she couldn't go up to the person and question him.

Everything, out of habit.

Shizuo turned to face Vorona again and patted her head after he wiped his hands off. "No. Remember, I said you shouldn't think about killing, right?" He smoothed her hair.

After a few delayed seconds, Vorona nodded slightly. Shizuo forced himself to smile.

_Don't make her worry._

"Good." He glanced around the kitchen, pretending to look for a clock, but he pulled out his cellphone after a quick sweep of the eyes. "It's getting late. Do you want me to walk you home?"

"Negative. Years of practice I have obtained."

Shizuo nodded and followed her out the kitchen. "Do you have anything you need to bring back?"

"That is negative."

They reached his door and she opened it, stepping outside.

Shizuo reached out and grabbed her wrist.

"Vorona, wait."

She turned, a hint of a question in her striking blue eyes.

"Ah," Shizuo stuttered. What was he doing? His grip on her wrist tightened as he took a step forward.

He cupped her cheek, caressing it hesitantly, and muttered, "Be careful, all right?"

Vorona peered up at him, slightly baffled and confused. Shizuo was not the intimate type, nor did he speak more than a few words, especially about his feelings or anything that showed his feelings.

She stiffened when Shizuo leaned in, still unaccustomed to it, but soon relaxed as she felt his breath on her lips.

He hesitated for a split second before he planted his lips on hers, a slow and seemingly sweet kiss.

He pulled back, desperately trying to look casual. His fingers lingered on Vorona's cheek. "Good night," he said softly.

She nodded and put her hand in Shizuo's, the one still on her cheek. She gave it a squeeze as she directed it back to Shizuo. He slipped it back into his pockets. She looked up at him, and that was her _"good night."_

As Vorona left, Shizuo shut the door.

He made his way back to his room and pulled off his dirtied clothes. He found his pajamas and slipped them on. He'll shower in the morning.

Getting into his futon, Shizuo stared blankly at nothing in particular in his dark room.

_What was that today?_

_Why did I even bother?_

Shizuo couldn't come up with an answer, only lay there in silence. Growing frustrated, he rolled to his side and thought, _The fucking flea probably deserved—_

He couldn't finish the thought.

No one deserved something like that.

Just what the hell was Izaya getting himself involved in?

Shizuo knew he'd been dealing with the yakuza ever since they got out of high school. Was it that?

But it had been so many years already.

Shizuo rolled into another position on his futon.

Then, did that mean Izaya was just getting himself into even deeper shit?

Or…

_Had things like that happened to him before?_

Shizuo forced his mind on something else. No, he wasn't going to believe that. Not the fucking flea. The one who had slipped his grips time after time.

_Then how the hell did that happen tonight?_

Shizuo didn't know. He wasn't sure if he _wanted_ to know. Rolling once more on his futon onto his other side, Shizuo breathed in deeply and exhaled. He was going to sleep and not think anymore, no.

.

.

_Life was so much simpler if Izaya wasn't in it._

* * *

><p><em>.<br>_

_.  
><em>

_To be continued...  
><em>

_(I apologize for the short length and lateness of this chapter!)  
><em>


	11. Chapter 11

_October 7, 2012_**_  
><em>**

_It's been a year since this was published! I can't believe I stuck with it. Thank you for the support! Here's a quick update as a treat.  
><em>

**OnOR Chapter 11:**

* * *

><p>Izaya's eyes snapped open and stared into the dense darkness of his room. His breathing had turned into short, stuttering gasps for air. His heart was beating quickly against his chest; he could hear blood pounding through his veins. His palms were uncomfortably sweaty, as were his legs and his neck. Yet, he felt cold.<p>

That had to be a nightmare…with a dash of dreamlike qualities…

Blurry scenes of the night city streets…of hazy passersby…of…people…and—

Shizuo.

As his breathing slowly returned to normal, Izaya's mind couldn't slow down. He remembered pieces of last night, of something about Earthworm, of Kadota, of—he refused to believe it was Shizuo. Izaya lay in confusion, trying to separate the different scenes in his mind into reality and imagination. What happened? Did _that_ happen? What…

It was all a mess. He had no idea what to think, what to believe.

Maybe it was all a dream…

Once he closed his eyes, he slipped into another state of half-consciousness. Falling back asleep didn't sound like such a bad idea…for once.

Izaya lost track of time as he dropped from consciousness and back. Not that he had any idea of time, anyway.

He was starting to feel uncomfortable, what with the unpleasant feeling throughout his body and his brain waking up…

Might as well not try falling back asleep anymore.

Izaya blinked his eyes blearily in the darkness of his room. The blinds had been drawn, but pale, barely noticeable moonlight still snuck in through the thin slits.

Izaya moved his arm to pull the covers off, only to wince in pain as his whole body throbbed from sore muscles. He flexed his fingers, growing frustrated at the lack of strength he felt—rather, the strength he _couldn't_ feel—in them. Groaning in irritation, he forcefully shoved his covers, which had become too heavy, off to the side as he slid his legs to the side of his bed.

The moment he put any pressure on those thin, shaky legs, Izaya collapsed to the floor. He threw his arms out in reflex to catch himself; he had barely even gotten halfway upright. Stabs shot through his thighs, his arms, his abdomen—practically _everywhere, _as he willed himself to stay perfectly still, his palms flat on the carpet as his knees pressed into the floor.

This pain…guess that part with the gang wasn't some creation of his brain.

Izaya tasted blood on his tongue, immediately realizing that he'd been biting down hard on his bottom lip, his forehead creased tight enough to trigger a headache.

Another attempt to stand up landed him back down on the floor. Izaya cursed, frustration growing exponentially, fueling his headache and sore throbbing. He leaned back against his bed, sighing in fatigue. The heaviness of his head made it loll to the side, almost as if he was trying to rest it on his own shoulder.

Izaya was still in his jeans and his ripped V-neck shirt. He tugged at the clothing clinging to him, only starting to notice how much it bothered him.

His closet and drawers stood on the other side of the room, and screw it all; he'll crawl over there if he had to.

And he did.

Pulling open his drawers, Izaya blindly felt for his black shorts and grey hoodie. And, of course, underwear. He really needed to change. After grabbing everything he needed, he tried standing again, with the help of the furniture. He leaned heavily against it, eyes clenched at the pain in his thighs, and waited it out.

Slowly, painfully, he took intermittent steps towards his bathroom.

He remembered. Everything was coming back to him, in the dark of the room, in the silence of the flat.

He remembered everything up until the moment when that man slammed his head against the wall. Involuntarily, Izaya's hand touched the spot that he now noticed was throbbing slightly. It was nothing; it'll go away in a day.

The bathroom light blinded him momentarily as he flipped the switch on.

He set his clean change of clothes to the side, and, looking up into the mirror, he froze at the sight of the darkening bruise on his forehead, the blood clotted on the sides of his face, the ripped lips.

He tore his eyes away, refusing to form any sort of reaction to it. Maybe he already did.

Twisting faucet of his shower to HOT, he stripped off his clothing and threw them aside...more like flimsily flinging them. His body still hurt so much.

Having the shower water pelt his scalp with hot—almost too hot—water, wiped his mind of all thoughts. The sound of falling water filled his ears, soothing him from the tension in his body. It was worth the sting in his cuts. He didn't realize he'd had so many.

_The pain will ease, once I get used to it,_ Izaya told himself. He trailed a slim finger against the laceration along his throat.

It'll be fine.

_I'll be fine._

Once again, he forgot how long he stayed like that for, until the steam fogged up the entire bathroom, and breathing got harder.

Reluctantly, he shut the water off and watched the steam dissipate as he swung a towel over his body.

Looking down, he saw bruises forming on his arms, parts of his thighs. There really was nothing he could do about it. No one would notice, anyway, when he wore that fur-trimmed jacket and those skinny jeans... Oh, that might hurt.

It didn't matter; it had happened before. Izaya opened the door and shivered when the cold air swept past him. He tenderly walked over to his bed with his clothes in hand. His bottom really hurt...so did his thighs...his knees...

The first time happened before he met Shiki. Always the arrogant bastard, Izaya meddled with the underground world when he was a mere young teenager, before he transferred schools to Raijin High. It was something akin to a huge slap in the face when they caught him; Izaya was harshly taught that no, he didn't know life better than other people.

_No, he needed to be worse than them if he wanted to survive._

The towel slipped easily from Izaya's thin, battered frame onto the carpeted floor. His brows scrunched slightly as he pulled on his underwear, then his shorts, his socks, and his hoodie. He crawled back into bed.

When he met Shiki, he was much more wary. Men like him, with stupid boys clamoring to work for him and frightened potential "business" partners, would in no way regard Izaya with importance. He was only a useful pawn who did things to their satisfaction—hence the somewhat higher status than "stupid boy clamoring for attention." But Shiki gave off a different feeling. Izaya suspected him even more, not used to the respectful way of speech from underground world bosses.

How could he have been so careless? That second time happened not long after Izaya met Shizuo, when that man turned the world upside down, inside and out. Izaya hated him. He hated how easily Shizuo ruined his plans. He hated how effortlessly Shizuo was able to see right through him.

Izaya had finally established a somewhat mutual trust between him and Shiki, and had ventured out in the middle of the night for—

Izaya turned in his bed, eyes clenching tight enough together to see stars form. He wished he had switched lights off in the bathroom.

It happened then, that night, and he got home by himself, albeit the hurdles and the pain. The next few days, at or out of school, Izaya avoided Shizuo. He took the extra effort to hide instead of gallivanting in front of his face. Even so, no one noticed. No one, not even Shinra, seemed to notice that he sometimes flinched when he stepped with the wrong amount of weight on his foot. No one saw that he sometimes had a limp in his gait. No one realized that he froze at times upon the lightest sounds, the lightest footsteps.

So when Shizuo had found him as he skipped class one day, and growled, breath heavy, after the beginning of their chase, _"Why the fuck are you slipping? Finally gonna let me catch you, or are you mocking me, god damn flea?" _Izaya couldn't conceal the shock on his face. He stared at Shizuo, forgetting his usual pompous mask of ridicule and arrogance, which caused Shizuo to start shifting uncomfortably as he tried to hide it. _"The hell you staring at?"_

Izaya pinched himself to snap out of it. He turned his wince into a smirking glare. _"At a monster who can't keep himself out of my business."_ Shizuo's rage came rushing back, red coloring his face again. Whatever he noticed, if he actually did, he forgot. Izaya smirked, but his heart was beating furiously in his chest. Saying "monster" was enough to distract Shizuo—that simple minded fool.

Izaya clutched the bed sheets tightly. His breath grew heavier...his chest heaved and constricted. What could he do? What was there to do? He gripped tighter—this was too much. He was so weak. Always hiding, always running, always taunting. Never enough, never able to up and do what he really wanted... _That _was Shizuo. Everything Izaya ever wanted, ever wanted to _be_.

Why didn't he know that he might leave one day? No, he knew.

He just wouldn't admit it. He held on to a naive hope that maybe, just maybe, Shizuo would be bound to him forever like that, a cat and mouse chase.

.x.

They had kept running. Izaya was in front, laughing loudly for Shizuo to hear, but his face was contorted in pain. Shizuo chased close behind, shouting in frustration. Izaya thought he kept pretenses up and had Shizuo fooled, but he thought wrong. When he turned around to see if Shizuo was behind him—if he was still chasing him, Izaya almost came face to face with the blonde, both their eyes growing in shock. Shizuo had never gotten that close to Izaya before...so surely he had slowed down...damn his legs. Izaya quickly looked in front of him to make sure his jump was accurate, only to land on the edge of the rooftop and slip down. His heart pumped, and adrenaline rushed through his veins. Out of reflex, he turned towards Shizuo, automatically reaching his arms out for balance.

What Shizuo did surprised him.

The blonde immediately stretched his hand out and grabbed Izaya's wrist. His face was wrinkled in concentration...and could that possibly be concern?

Shizuo leaned over the roof, with Izaya dangling from his hand. Izaya, once he realized his position, grew terrified. Shizuo would drop him. If anything, he would pull him back up and wring his neck. Or he would...

Shizuo was pulling him back up, shouting something Izaya couldn't hear. Or maybe he did hear, but his brain didn't register it.

_"Fucking flea! What do you think you're doing!? Are you _trying_ to kill yourself?"_

Izaya was confused. He had never seen Shizuo angry over him before, only ever _because _of him.

_"Now what if I was? Wouldn't I be saving you some time and effort?"_

Shizuo gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. _"God damn it, answer my question! And quit twisting people's words around!"_

Izaya shrugged. _"You can kill me now; I can't run even if I wanted to." _Despite the words coming out of his mouth, his hand gripped tighter onto Shizuo's. He trembled from the inside out.

Shizuo's glare froze on his face. Izaya's words made no sense. _"What are you planning?"_

Izaya willed himself to keep eye contact, despite the pain in his chest and throughout his body. He jumped a few steps back once his foot hit the roof again. _"...I'm not planning anything."_ At Shizuo's look of suspicion, Izaya continued,_ "Are you going to kill me now, or are you letting me go? It's going to be your only chance."_

They stared at each other for what seemed like an hour, but were really a few seconds, when Shizuo spun around in frustration, dented the railing, and stormed off.

.xx.

Izaya opened his eyes and stretched out his fingers. They hurt after how long he had gripped the sheets so tightly. He gingerly flipped to lie on his back, only to be interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone.

He groaned softly and reached his arm out. He slapped it around, trying to find the phone that was ringing. Finally, he pushed himself upright and looked around his room; he saw it on the far end of his drawers.

By the time he slipped out of bed and supported himself over with the help of the minimal furniture, the ringing had stopped.

The faint glow of the screen read:

_Missed call (1): Shiki._

Izaya was about to call him back, before his thumb hesitated on the button and he snapped the phone shut. The screen's light hurt. He wasn't in the right condition to talk. Shiki wasn't dumb; he'd figure something was up.

When Izaya settled on the verge between being asleep and awake, his phone rang again, this time next to his ear. The ringing renewed his headache, and he had half a mind to chuck the thing out the window. But he couldn't. Before he answered it, the ringing stopped. In his groggy state, Izaya believed that the caller had to be Shiki, trying to reach him another time. It had to be. Shiki probably had an urgent job for him to do…

He finally fell asleep again.

Once more, his phone rang. As Izaya's eyelids reluctantly opened a slit, the sun had risen. Izaya groaned and flipped the device open, pushing it against his ear. What did Shiki want?

"Hello, Orihara speaking," he half mumbled into the receiver.

No one responded, and Izaya almost passed out again until he remembered that he was on the phone.

"Hello…?" He rolled onto his back and threw an arm across his forehead, trying to block some light from his eyes. "…Shiki-san?"

"Who the fuck is Shiki?" The voice was rough. Loud. Angry…

Izaya's eyes snapped open. _What? _"Hello?" was the only thing he could say. He mentally kicked himself.

On the other side of the line, Shizuo's forehead creased heavily. What the hell was he doing?

"Who gave you this number?" Izaya questioned suspiciously, drawing out each word and saying them beneath his breath.

"It doesn't matter," Shizuo replied, refusing to believe that he felt somewhat relieved that Izaya said something instead of hanging up. Why was he calling, anyways?

They both fell silent, but didn't end the call. Shizuo didn't know why he actually typed Izaya's number into his phone and dialed, but he did.

"If you don't need anything, then don't call me. My time is valuable," Izaya said, beginning to feel irritated. Nothing was making any sense.

When Shizuo didn't reply, Izaya hung up and dropped his phone to his side. He didn't want to think anymore. Maybe it would do him some good to be as stupid as those other humans.

Not more than a minute later, sound blasted from Izaya's phone again. He gritted his teeth and breathed deeply before he answered. "Hello, Orihara speaking."

"Don't fucking hang up on me!"

Izaya winced. "Please, calm down and don't shout." He wasn't in the mood.

Shizuo, behind the voice in the phone, clenched his eyes closed. This wasn't working well. He had the urge to call, but why, he had no idea. He slept fitfully last night, waking up at random hours and not fully losing consciousness. God damn Izaya. He never brought anything good.

This time, Izaya waited. He stayed on the line as long as Shizuo did, waiting for him to say something himself.

"Are you about dead yet?" Shizuo growled, successfully sounding as hateful as he usually did, but it nagged at him. Somehow, he wished it didn't come out so harsh.

Izaya bit his lip. He began to wonder if he was a masochist. Seriously, Shizuo actually thought to call him on the phone…and he felt happy he did, even though all Shizuo said was curse words.

"I'm sorry to disappoint, but I think I'll live." Izaya chuckled humourlessly. "I'll live in this twisted, hideous world." He wanted to fall asleep again, but having Shizuo on the phone seemed too good to be true…

Shizuo leaned against the wall. He actually was taking each and every word Izaya said in mind, though he wasn't doing it purposefully. It just happened. "Good—"

Izaya's heart clenched.

"—I said I'll take your life by my own hands."

"Haha," Izaya laughed—more like wheezed. He mumbled, "Go ahead and take it any time."

What? "What the fuck are you saying?"

Izaya sighed. "Good-bye." He closed his phone.

Shizuo stared at his phone, his anger boiling. The bastard dared to hang up on him twice. Twice. Then it hit him. Izaya never said his name once. He didn't even tease him, try to get on his nerves. Not one 'Shizu-chan.' He hated the unsettling feeling in his stomach. Why the fuck did he even care?

He shoved the device into his pocket and straightened his tie as he lifted his eyes onto the reflection in the mirror. Bags under his eyes were a normal occurrence, but today they just looked even more prominent. Shizuo scowled, remembering the reason behind his lack of sleep last night.

He flicked his lighter open and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag out of it and opened the door. The air was turning into a frosty cold, chilling to the bones. Shizuo didn't mind it. It helped keep his mind off of things, letting him walk down the street in a thoughtless stroll.

* * *

><p>.<p>

.

_To be continued..._

_(Feedback would be greatly appreciated!)  
><em>


	12. Chapter 12

_November 14, 2012_

****One and Only, Right? Chapter 12:**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Izaya's nose scrunched up when he stepped from his room and the stuffy smell of nicotine filled every nook of his office. He hated that smell.<p>

He hated it like he hated Shizuo.

It drove him crazy. Just one whiff of it always led to a rush of nostalgia, of memories that replayed themselves time and again in his mind for what felt like an eternity in the span of one second.

He learned how to hide all that quickly, but he suspected that Shiki knew something was up. No one else ever noticed how Izaya's eyes would glaze over and become unfocused whenever anyone lit a cigarette and exhaled around him. He would focus once more in a matter of seconds, but an unnerving feeling settled in Izaya's gut every time Shiki pulled a nicotine stick out of its box. He seemed to do it deliberately, almost as if he was watching Izaya every time.

Speaking of Shiki…

Izaya waved his hand in front of his face, attempting to dispel the strong odor. He settled into his swivel chair and pressed his computer's power button. A sigh escaped his lips and he threw his head back, spreading his legs underneath his desk. This was all so tiring. Maybe he should take a break. Maybe he should just leave.

He heaved himself up to sit straight and pulled a cellphone out. He typed in Shiki's number—it was faster now that way rather than scrolling through his list of contacts.

Maybe he should just ignore it for today.

He pressed the call button.

"Shiki speaking."

"Hello, it's Izaya." He frowned, knowing fully well that Shiki didn't need clarification, but made him feel obligated anyway.

"Ah, Orihara-san."

Izaya felt tired. He didn't want to play these games anymore.

"Shiki-san, I apologize for not returning your call sooner. Is there anything in particular you needed me for?"

"Yes. I am coming by this evening to discuss some things with you. Be sure you will be in your office at six sharp."

"Of course."

"Then, I'll see you then."

"Same to you."

The line went dead.

His desktop background stared back at him, and Izaya saw without seeing all the icons and folders and information inside that computer. He couldn't bring himself to open any of them, couldn't bring himself to get started.

He gritted his teeth in frustration and pushed himself off the chair rather harshly, grimacing in pain as he leaned stock still against his table. Fuck.

_Fuck._

_He couldn't do any fucking thing right._

Gingerly, Izaya made his way over to the kitchen. Everything _hurt._ His head felt as if it weighed more than his entire body, his legs were sore, and his hands wouldn't stop trembling. As he reached the sink, Izaya stretched out his arms and grabbed the edge, leaning his upper body over it, trying to alleviate the throbbing pulse near his temples.

He concentrated his mind on the information he needed for his clients, but it was all a mess. He couldn't think straight, jumping from one thing to another. He couldn't think at all.

He snapped his clenched eyes open and gagged into the sink. The bile that rose to his throat tasted foul, and his eyes blurred with excess liquid. Nothing but the sounds of his coughing and gagging came out.

He felt horrible. His eyes stung and his throat was starting to hurt. His fingers were going numb from how hard he gripped the granite. The coughs came out more like chokes, and Izaya's breathing calmed.

What the hell was going on? His thighs shook uncontrollably, and no matter how he tried to keep upright, Izaya's legs gave out underneath him and he dropped to the floor, his knees digging into the hard tiles, his arms raised up, still holding onto the sink edge.

_Stop._

_Nothing's wrong. _

_Nothing's wrong._

It had been so long since Izaya ever experienced this. He refused to think that it was starting again. He wasn't _sick. _And this wasn't just any sickness.

Slowly, he pulled himself up, almost leaning all the way into the sink, and caught his breath.

"_Are you about dead yet?"_

His head began aching. Izaya ran a hand through his hair, fisting it. Stop, he wanted it to stop.

"_Good—"_

Shizuo's voice was loud and clear in his ears. There was a deafening buzzing; it wouldn't end. The silence of the apartment was driving him crazy.

"_Good…"_

Izaya's elbows dug into the granite as he clenched his head, trying to stop the pounding.

"—_take your life by my own hands—"_

_Good…_

He screamed. His hands slipped to cover his ears. He didn't want to hear anymore. He didn't want to know.

He didn't want Shizuo.

The only sound in the apartment was Izaya's erratic gulps of breath. He hated it. He _hated—_Izaya jerked the faucet on. He wasn't going to admit it.

The sound of rushing water filled the silence, and Izaya found it soothing. The cold splashes to his face cooled the sting of his eyes and the heat on his cheeks. His head continued to throb, but the coldness of the water distracted Izaya from everything else. He didn't have to think.

The drone of water falling wiped Izaya's muddled thoughts away, and finally, he turned the faucet off. Maybe he should go buy some pain relievers for his damn headache.

Wiping his face off, Izaya went to grab his jacket and glanced over at his desk. The work could wait, at least for today. He knew he wouldn't make any progress.

Slipping on his shoes, he closed the door behind him and put on his usual gleeful smirk, pulling on his condescending aura.

He balled his hands into fists inside his pockets.

He was fine. He was better than most other people. He _was _better than other people.

He hated mundane life. He hated people who consented to mundane lifestyles.

But most of all, he hated Shizuo.

He threw everything off balance.

Izaya walked down the stairs on the balls of his feet, careful not to jolt his head any more than it had been. The chill in the air had a bite to it, but Izaya ignored it. He didn't care to stroll around the city, and went straight to the convenience store nearby.

He would say everything and anything but acknowledge _it_.

He refused to admit _that_.

.

.

_He hated himself._

.

When his cellphone rang, Izaya was sprawled across his couch, an arm dangling down the side as he tried to fall asleep; rather, he hovered on the thin stream of consciousness between being asleep and awake. He had taken a few pills, but they didn't work at all.

The buzzing of the phone against glass caused him to groan. He pushed himself up with his elbows and reached for the device on his coffee table.

_Shiki._

Izaya stared blankly at the illuminated caller ID, not wanting to answer, but his fingers were already sliding under the screen. He sighed and flipped it open.

"Orihara speaking."

"I'm below your apartment; I'll be up there in a few minutes."

Izaya's head was hurting.

He pushed himself off the couch and almost fell right back down. His head was heavy, and his eyes didn't focus. Steadying himself, he cursed as he stumbled to the bathroom to splash his face with water.

When Shiki knocked, Izaya had composed himself enough, but he was tenser than usual, paranoid around the executive's keen senses. He opened the door and led them to the coffee table, taking a seat across from each other.

Shiki regarded Izaya with an expression the informant was not accustomed to. It was poised, almost unreadable as befitting of the executive, but Izaya felt more unnerved than usual. Something about the way Shiki looked at him pushed Izaya closer to the edge.

"Orihara," Shiki said. Izaya held back a flinch, but the small twitch didn't escape Shiki's observant eyes that easily.

Izaya stared back at Shiki. Their gazes were unwavering, each trying to make the other back down through challenging eyes alone. The room was thick with tension, and the only sounds were the clock's ticks and the buzzing of silence. It was as if time froze and they were stuck in that minute.

But, finally, Shiki spoke. His voice sent a chill down Izaya's spine, the way it was so calm, authoritative, and foreboding. Shiki asked, "Have you ever had a taste of the forbidden?"

Izaya thought Shiki was asking a rather obvious—and dumb—question. 'Illegal activities' was practically his job description. Shiki was one of his greatest clients in that area; what was the man getting at with such a question?

Izaya heard Shiki sigh, with a mocking shake of his head.

"Orihara, I thought you were faster than this."

Izaya's brows furrowed just slightly, his other features remaining in their place.

"Shi...ki-san, if you're speaking of 'forbidden', then I think you would know by now—"

Shiki let out a low, brief laugh. He said, "Okay, if you want to look at it that way, then we'll start from there. And why is it that you're working for me?"

Izaya smoothed his expression into his usual smile. He grew frustrated, but Shiki didn't need to know that. What was Shiki getting at? Izaya hated that the executive could hold the upper hand at times. He was just as skilled—if not better, Izaya hated to admit—than the informant at manipulation. Izaya shrugged, a nonchalant expression on his face. His lips curled into a slight smirk.

Shiki seemed unfazed, and pulled out his cigarette box.

Izaya watched. His entwined fingers tightened, but not nearly noticeable. Or at least, he desperately hoped that was the case with Shiki.

It all seemed to happen in slowed time frames. Shiki pulled out his cigarette with care, not bothering to hasten the process as most others did. When Shiki brought it to his mouth, Izaya's fingers clenched tighter. Shiki was doing this deliberately. He had to be. In that instant, Izaya believed his suspicions to be entirely true. The bastard was screwing with him... Izaya bit the inside of his lip to calm down.

Shiki looked up at him, as if to ask for permission to light the nicotine stick. Izaya plastered a smile on, and Shiki flipped his lighter open. The flame swayed for a second before it settled. Black soot formed at the tip of the cigarette, an orange glow spreading amongst the black and gray.

Shiki inhaled. He looked at the high ceiling as he dragged in the fumes. It brought Izaya on edge, waiting for Shiki to get on with his point instead of purposefully testing the informant.

Shiki exhaled slowly, blowing out the smoke in a steady stream. Izaya, for once, wished Shiki would just open his mouth and let a cloud of the smoke out, like what some others did. Izaya just wished Shiki would get his business over with.

Finally, Shiki said, "You work for me because it's a great rush. You don't want to do menial work, simply looking for fraud or embezzlement for some regular companies."

He took another drag of his cigarette. "With me, you get a taste of something you shouldn't even have a sniff of, much less taste. That is why you seek it out. You want to do what's not allowed."

Izaya didn't know how to retort. He tried to get himself under control. "Now, Shiki-san—"

Shiki held up an arm and Izaya stopped, thinking that the executive had something to say.

"No, no, Orihara-san, let me finish and maybe your position now will change." He looked straight into Izaya's eyes, and the informant froze against his seat. "Have you ever tasted another type of forbidden?"

The meaning hit Izaya. He realized that Shiki meant... He couldn't mean that. No, he couldn't.

"Why would you like to know?"

Izaya held Shiki's stare.

Shiki took one last drag and leaned over to stub the cigarette out on the ash tray. Izaya saw his gaze linger on the few cigarette butts that were already in there. Shiki leaned back against the couch, and asked, "Would you like to try?"

Izaya's pulse was steadily speeding up, the pounding loud in his ear. No, he didn't want to try. No, Shiki should stop messing with him.

No, it would hurt too much. It would remind him of what he didn't have...what he couldn't ever have with...Shizuo.

_Shizuo._

Izaya stood up slowly, trying not to make any abrupt movements or else he wouldn't be able to hide the pain that'd shoot through his ass and into everywhere else on his body. He thought he saw a smirk spread across Shiki's lips, but it was gone so quickly that Izaya started to doubt himself. He walked around the coffee table over to Shiki's side, and the executive's eyes followed his every move.

Izaya stopped in front of him and, upon Shiki's motion, sat down beside the white-clad man, facing him.

Without much warning, Shiki cupped Izaya's cheek with one hand and kissed him, keeping his lips there as he took in Izaya's scent. His free arm slid along Izaya's side, from his bony hip to his thin waist to his shoulder blades.

Izaya tensed. He only started to relax slightly when Shiki drew circles on his back. Izaya felt himself shaking, and he couldn't do anything about it as Shiki began to move his lips, coaxing Izaya to part his mouth.

This was too much. After last night, after Kadota told him about Shizuo, after that phone call, Izaya didn't have the strength left to keep his pretenses up any longer. It was all too much.

And Shiki knew exactly how to exploit it.

Izaya's breath came heavier than usual; the small gap of his parted lips was enough for Shiki to take control of Izaya even further. The sensation of someone else's tongue in his mouth was a weird one, but the uncomfortable aspects of what they were doing got pushed to the back of Izaya's mind as Shiki's hands roamed down his body.

Izaya couldn't tell if he wanted this or not anymore.

Just when Izaya was gone out of his mind and about to respond to Shiki's maneuvers, the man pulled back and whispered, "Put your arms around me."

Izaya nodded and hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around Shiki's torso. He's never wanted this, but at this moment, it was all Izaya ever needed to escape. To run away.

And Shiki had always been the one to hide him whenever he did.

Shiki had always been the one to find him when he ran, truly ran and hid.

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

_.  
><em>

_To be continued...  
><em>

_(Have a happy Thanksgiving to those of you who celebrate!)  
><em>


	13. Chapter 13

_April 28, 2013_

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 13:**

* * *

><p>A soft moan came from Izaya's throat when Shiki placed his hands on the informant's bottom and pulled him into his lap. Izaya winced. That fucking hurt, but Shiki had pushed his tongue farther down Izaya's throat and <em>that<em> made his breath come short.

Izaya felt himself being lowered onto his back, his head falling on the seat of the couch. His hands shook, no matter how desperately he tried to calm them. He shouldn't be doing this. No . . . this isn't . . . but—Shiki's hand snuck under Izaya's shirt and smoothed itself across his navel. Izaya's thoughts jumbled in his mind and he couldn't think straight.

Maybe it was the fierce kiss Shiki was giving him. Maybe it was the sensation of rough hands on his fragile skin that made blood rush through his head so he couldn't think straight.

He couldn't think at all.

Izaya slid his unsteady hands through Shiki's hair and gasped in breaths of air. He shivered involuntarily at the wet lips on his neck, and his mind was in conflict. His gut was telling him to stop, to push Shiki away and continue on with their business. Because this wasn't Shizuo. This wasn't anything like Shizuo. But . . .

He would never have Shizuo.

Izaya clenched his eyes at the thought and tensed. He bit Shiki's lip and tugged his hair, hearing a low moan from the executive for the first time. Izaya found he liked it; he liked the minimal amount of control he was regaining, liked the harshness of it all. He wanted to feel himself gain some sort of control back. He wanted it back in his life, back in his thoughts, back in his emotions. It lured him as easily as seduction.

Shiki nipped at Izaya's lower lip and traced the inside of Izaya's mouth before breaking their kiss to latch onto the crevice of Izaya's neck. Izaya was panting, arching his head up to coax Shiki against his neck even more. He couldn't hear Shiki's breath. Was it because his own pants were drowning everything else out, or was Shiki not even slightly breathless?

Izaya gritted his teeth, frustrated, and pulled harder on Shiki's hair when Shiki bit down on his collarbone, no doubt leaving red teeth marks. Izaya could feel Shiki's lips curl up as the man licked the bitten area to cool it down. The spot only burned hotter.

It was addicting, this feeling. His mind was going numb, and all he wanted was the touch of Shiki's hands and the feel of Shiki's tongue. After all these months, he finally found a way to clear his mind. He was not about to let it slip away.

For those short minutes, the memories and thoughts that had plagued him since two months ago were pushed to the back of his mind. It was relieving. Frustrating.

"So even you cry after all."

Shiki's mouth left him and the areas where his hands touched felt cold—too cold. Izaya opened his eyes and saw Shiki through blurred vision. Had he been crying?

Izaya blinked his eyes, trying to focus his vision, when Shiki brought his hand back and wiped off some tears on the corner of Izaya's eye. His hand was warm . . . so warm. Izaya fought desperately not to lean into the touch, but he didn't notice that he moved slightly. He kept his expression stoic.

"I don't cry." He leveled Shiki with the best glare he could manage, but guessing that he looked disheveled and flushed, Izaya knew it held no malice in Shiki's eyes. Not to mention that Izaya was on his back, his legs wrapped around the executive's hips.

Shiki didn't reply, but he smiled as if he knew Izaya better than the raven knew himself. He wiped Izaya's eyes once more before pulling the informant's shirt down. Izaya pushed himself up with his elbows, scooting himself off of Shiki to stumble next to the edge of the couch. He tugged his clothes down and straightened them, keeping his face neutral, but his muscles twitched.

This was just horrid; he felt his hands shake, his legs threatening to collapse. His skin burned from the lack of touches it had so quickly become addicted to. Izaya could easily and confidently say that he was the best at evading situations not in his favor. This time, the odds were all against him.

Izaya heard Shiki shuffle and discreetly looked through the corner of his eye. The man had pulled out another cigarette and sat with his head back, breathing in the nicotine as he laid an arm across the backrest.

A cloud of smoke floated out of his mouth and he said, "It's getting late." He negligently glanced at his watch, and looked back up at the ceiling.

Izaya didn't face him full on, his back half directed at Shiki. Glancing at his own silent clock, Izaya saw that it was almost seven.

"Late?" Izaya scoffed. This was hardly _late_ if he were to go by the last few times Shiki called.

Shiki heaved himself from the couch, stubbing out the cigarette and patting lint from his slacks. "It's late for dinner."

Dinner. Izaya wondered if he even had lunch earlier. "Ah, of course. Sorry for keeping you." Izaya stepped to open the door, but before he got there, he heard Shiki's voice.

"I want you to come with me."

Izaya stopped. Composing his face, Izaya smiled and turned around to Shiki. "I'm afraid I can't, Shiki-san. You see, I've got plenty of work to finish." He faked a dejected sigh. In truth, he was running away again; running from the situation, running from having to deal with Shiki, running from thinking about Shizuo. That was all he could do, after all: run.

Shiki walked over to Izaya, his hands inside his pockets. Stopping just a foot from the informant, Shiki asked, "Is that so?" His face looked apathetic, yet mildly curious at the same time. Izaya wanted to glare and shout at him to wipe that look off his face. It was putting him on edge.

Izaya pursed his lips apologetically and shrugged, shifting his eyes briefly to his desk as implication. "Yes."

Shiki regarded Izaya, and the informant felt himself faltering under that gaze. It was as if Shiki could see right through him. It was terrifying.

Izaya wanted to run.

He wanted to run away from everything.

He wanted to run from his . . . from . . . Shizuo. From the possibility that Shiki knew.

"A shame, then. Let me take you to some Greek food."

Izaya whirled around with an incredulous look on his face.

Shiki shrugged and a corner of his lips twitched up. "Come." He headed for the door and didn't bother to look back.

As the door slid shut, Izaya wanted to punch the wall. _Fuck. Fuck it all._

He threw on his jacket and ripped open his door, slamming it closed and hurried after Shiki.

* * *

><p>As per his daily routine (or nightly), Shizuo followed behind Tom silently and pensively. The night was just starting, and it felt as if it would never end already.<p>

"Want to grab a snack?" Tom slowed and walked in pace next to Shizuo. He waited, because Shizuo always replied a little belated, jerking his head up and asking apologetically for a repeat of the question.

"Hm?"

Tom stopped and jerked his thumb behind him at the convenience store, a grin on his face.

Shizuo looked up and nodded, following Tom into the store. He didn't say much—he never did, but he didn't care much. There weren't many things he cared about, as he had little to lose. His brother was his only lifeline, his sole reason to try and _do _something with his life.

He trailed behind Tom as he perused the aisles of gum, chips, cookies, and cute little packages of snacks. Sweets calmed him. With the amount of worthless crap in this world, he was grateful for sweets.

He watched Tom reach for the same packages that they always got—him, some Tiroru chocolate squares, and Tom, a bar of plain dark chocolate. A sight caught his eye once he lifted his head and glanced outside the glass wall, and he froze.

_Son of a bitch—_

"Hey, Shizuo, _hey!" _

Shizuo ignored Tom's shouts as he slammed out of the door. Tom raised his hands and sighed, "Oh, what the hell. Sorry, I'll pay for these, thank you."

Shizuo was out and shouted across the street, "Hey flea!" He didn't run, only stood with his hands clenched at his sides as his mind fogged with actions. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, and he didn't know why the hell he didn't just grab the closest public post and chuck it over.

Izaya had only stepped out of Shiki's white limousine before he heard a growl he was all too familiar with. He felt Shiki step behind him, a little too close.

"Izaya!"

He tried to ignore it, but he stopped walking anyways as he heard heavy steps marching against the pavement. He flinched when Shiki placed a hand to his back, whispering _Let's go_ next to his ear and he listened.

"God _damn _it, you fucking flea, I said _stop!"_

From the years he had spent teasing and purposefully infuriating Shizuo, Izaya knew the inflections of his voice. This time, though, was different only in that he had no energy left to continue his games. He stopped again, and this time he said softly, "Shiki-san, please, go on ahead. I need to settle this. I promise it'll be quick."

The hand slipped from his back, and Izaya could feel the extra heat siphoning away from the spot. He refused to look when Shiki regarded him for a second before lighting a cigarette. "No, I'll wait."

Izaya would've glared if he could, but he decided against it and simply turned and stepped off to the side before Shizuo was in his face, a dangerous tint in his eyes.

"Why, Shizu-chan, you're being more intimate than I expected." His expression and his tone was as light-hearted as ever, but he sure hoped Shizuo couldn't catch the slight waver in his façade. Judging by his reaction, Izaya supposed not.

"The fuck do you think you're doing?"

Izaya's brows furrowed into a glare. "Am I not allowed to have dinner?"

"You know I'm not fucking talking about that! I'm asking you _why_ you're—oh for fuck's sake what are you _doing_?"

"I actually have no idea what you're talking about. I'm getting dinner, Shizu-chan. Getting," Izaya enunciated, "dinner."

"Fuck if you're getting dinner! I'm asking if you're all right you annoying little tick!"

Izaya's expression was wiped off his face as Shizuo's words sank in. He stared, and while he was shocked speechless and inactive, Shizuo didn't seem to find anything surprising about his outburst. Granted, he yelled a lot. And Izaya never knew what he would say. Nor was he ever right in predicting his actions.

"I—" Izaya began, stumbling for words, "have no idea what you mean. What makes you think I would be any worse off than usual?" He saw Shizuo's expression darken (or redden in anger, really), and he stopped him before he could reply. "Actually," he interjected, "don't answer that. I can't play with you today, Shizu-chan. I'm sorry!" His last sentence regained his normal cheery, sarcastically mocking tone, and he was about to bound off in the direction of the restaurant when Shizuo burst in rage and frustration, or at least, what it seemed like.

"Any—any—" His unexpected anger prevented him from making coherent sentences. "Any _normal person _would've been—_Normal_ people would have done something about it! Not brush it off like it—like it—" Shizuo clenched his fingers around the traffic sign and growled in frustration as he slammed it to the side.

Izaya watched unflinchingly; though inside, he was burning with questions. Why was Shizuo so angry at him for such a reason?

"Now, now, Shizu-chan. I thought you might have known by now that I am not an ordinary person."

Shiki stood a few steps away from the two, staying in the background and watching both of them in detail and curiosity. What a spectacular change of events.

"Don't worry about me, now, hm? But I really can't stay any longer, so how about we continue this another time?" Izaya didn't wait for a reply before he turned with an air of finality and walked over to Shiki. "I'm sorry, Shiki-san. Shall we?"

As they walked inside, Izaya inwardly flinched at the string of curses he heard and a deafening smack of something outside the building.

* * *

><p>Shizuo slammed his fists into the wall. He looked at the cracks that immediately lined the worn bricks, and irritably, resignedly, skulked off with his hands stuffed inside his pockets, a cigarette poking out his mouth.<p>

Why the hell did he care, anyway? For all he knew, Izaya could actually _like _it, sick bastard that he was.

Shizuo walked in the direction of the highway, his feet taking him to that place on the bridge where he enjoyed staying with Celty. It had grew on him, and it calmed him.

But really, who was he trying to fool? He might be able to convince Kadota or Celty, or hell, those two weird geeks in Kadota's little four-man gang, but he definitely couldn't convince himself. That Izaya might've _liked _that experience? That he let them do it—let them—to him—Shizuo stopped himself from thinking any further. There was no way Izaya let them.

Then why did he get caught? The_ annoyingly elusive pest _that Shizuo had been chasing since high school?

Shizuo leaned against the bridge support and puffed out a smoke. He watched it trail up towards the black sky in the cold night, and listened to the passing cars. This was going to bother him to no end unless he got an answer. And deep in his heart, he knew that the answer had to come from Izaya himself, or the question would not quiet itself.

But _fuck, _why?

Of all things, of all people, why did it have to be _him? _

Why did it have to be Shizuo to find him? Why did it have to be Izaya, and not some other poor fool wandering the streets?

Actually, Shizuo regretted that thought. He shouldn't be wishing that situation on anyone.

He continued walking in the shadows as opposed to the yellow spheres from the street lights, and the passing streaks of cars. He didn't expect Celty to be there today; she was rarely there unless Shizuo asked her to come out. After the incident earlier that night, Shizuo moodily returned to Tom at the convenience store, but his appearance didn't show it. He figured Tom noticed something was different this time compared to the usual encounters with Izaya, but Tom mentioned nothing but a few words of "Done? Here's your chocolate. Let's get this finished as early as possible." Maybe Shizuo had it wrong. Tom said a lot more than a few words, trying to keep the mood light and Shizuo's mind off any particular subject, but Shizuo only nodded in agreement without really knowing what he was agreeing to.

At the end of their night, Tom sighed. Shizuo watched and waited, knowing that a question was coming.

"_You know, Shizuo, I never asked you much about yourself, right?"_

Shizuo nodded. He had an idea where this was going.

"_Would you mind me asking something now?"_

Tom looked him directly in the eye, and Shizuo decided not to reply.

"_What happened with Izaya?"_

Shizuo leaned back against the foot of the bridge and lit his cigarette, watching the white fume of smoke drift and dissipate into the black sky. He hadn't known how to answer Tom, and he found himself wondering _when. _What happened _when _with Izaya? When they were in high school, when they got out of high school, or just recently, when he found Izaya being manhandled by some ruffians who didn't know their fucking place and they would have a piece of his mind if they ever came across his path again, those—

Why did those bastards have to do it, anyway? God _damn _it, Shizuo was going to murder those sons-of-a-bitch when he finds them again.

Tom had sighed again. "_You know what, never mind. I don't mean to pry, but if anything, know that I won't judge."_ He smiled and gave Shizuo a good-natured pat on the shoulder, before he left with a "_Good work tonight. I'll see you tomorrow." _

Shizuo took the last drag from his cigarette and stomped it out on the floor. Picking it up, he dropped it into the nearest trash can and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He had no idea where he planned to go, but he felt restless if he decided to go home now. It was late, and he had nowhere else to go, lest he wanted to drop by Vorona's place. That wasn't unwarranted, but he really shouldn't be bothering her this late at night.

Most of all, Shizuo knew he was only avoiding the problem. Who else could it be but Izaya to annoy the hell out of him and give him no peace of mind.

But the fact still remained that there were too many questions plaguing his mind.

_Oh, fuck it. _Shizuo stopped in his tracks, and instead of heading home, he ran in the direction of Izaya's apartment.

* * *

><p>Izaya lay on his black leather couch, a leg propped on the armrest and another draped across the backrest. He let an arm dangle off the side, and he threw the other across his forehead, half-covering his eyes. The lights were off in his office, and the curtains to the glass wall behind his desk were drawn. The limited amount of light soothed him, and his mind was beginning to clear and calm in the last two hours.<p>

After dinner, which was relatively 'normal' (and quite eerily unsettling in that sense), Shiki had dropped Izaya back at his flat. Nothing new was requested of him but to "_keep doing what you are. But be sure not to let yourself slip like you did in the last months. Good night."_

Izaya stiffened, but dropped it as soon as he reached his door and stepped inside. His hand hovered and froze above the switches, until he decided against light, threw his jacket off, and fell onto his sofa. He groaned in frustration, not caring that he still had shoes on and everything was a mess.

So now he had laid there for almost two hours, willing to let himself fall asleep, but he simply couldn't. He felt his chest rise and fall, and his body grew heavy. It would be a gift if he could fall asleep.

_Bam bam bam bam—_

Izaya jolted awake, his eyes flying open as he heard the abrupt and strong raps at his door. He groaned, deciding to ignore it, but the person was persistent.

"Izaya, open your door!"

. . .

Izaya sat up, staring in the direction of the sounds incredulously. He squinted his eyes, due to both the darkness and his confusion.

Perhaps he'd waited too long, because the banging stopped and he heard a curse.

Shizuo was on the other side of the door, cursing below his breath and staring furiously in front of him. The bastard wasn't home. The fuck was he doing out this late? It had to be eleven already. Or maybe midnight.

Shizuo blanked, his mind honing in on one thought that'd flashed by.

_Oh fucking Hell, he better not have—_

Shizuo didn't finish his thought before he whirled around and was prepared to rush out of the building in search of Izaya. He better not be out doing some questionable "information gathering" and get himself in the same predicament—but who was he kidding? When did Izaya _not _do anything questionable and highly dangerous? _God fucking damn it—_

He heard the door unlatch.

All thoughts flew out of his head and the adrenaline that had spiked through his body just as quickly disappeared. He turned around and saw Izaya, hair disheveled and eyes bereft of their usual taunting glint.

The only thought that crossed Shizuo's mind was: _Thank goodness he wasn't running around in some shady part of Tokyo and getting himself cornered. _

In that moment, Shizuo knew one thing for certain: even if it was the annoying Izaya he'd hated for years, even if it was this person who dabbled in all sorts of horrible affairs, _even _if it was him, no one deserved to be treated without humanity. And Shizuo finally knew that he would never kill Izaya, or harm Izaya, or actually go through with all the threats he had spouted over the years and the ones he, at times, truly believed he would do even if it cost his life.

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

_._

_A/N: Hopefully this chapter made sense, and I'm sorry for any mistakes. I thought it'd be best to post this before waiting until who knows when I would edit and revise this. Thank you for sticking with me, and your reviews always make my day. So thank you to those of you who reviewed, and yes, those who left me brief "please update!"s because they do remind me that I should write._

_Thank you. _

_._

_To be continued..._


	14. Chapter 14

_July 12, 2013_

_This chapter has not been proofread (as are most of the other ones...). _

**One and Only, Right? Chapter 14:**

* * *

><p>"Why didn't you answer?" Shizuo glared at Izaya, but not before he ran his eyes down Izaya's person. He was unkempt, a rare sight that Shizuo could only connect to that night in the alleyway, when he found him abused out of his mind. Here he was worried that the reckless flea went strolling in the middle of the night again, but he stood in his doorway, eyes sullen and shoulders slouched. Shizuo's eyebrows furrowed, and he didn't notice that his glare lost its intensity. Izaya regarded him blankly, with his usual unreadable expression, but Shizuo suspected some slight confusion in those sharp, muddy-red eyes.<p>

Izaya raised an eyebrow. "Not answer?" He motioned to his opened door. "Shizu-chan, what part of this is not answering?" He didn't know why Shizuo was here, especially at such an hour. Granted, neither of them followed the daytime-nighttime schedules of ordinary, upstanding citizens, but he still didn't expect such a late visit. Shouldn't the brute be home, nuzzling his pretty fiancée?

Ah, that's right. Bastard was engaged now. Who would've guessed it! Shizuo, the rampaging monster of Ikebukuro, was soon to be married. Izaya scoffed. He found it quite fitting that Shizuo's bride will be an emotionless, brutal assassin. Oh, what a pair.

What a pair, indeed. Izaya chuckled, and couldn't contain it. He threw his head back laughing, leaning against the door frame as he wrapped an arm around his stomach. The annoying blond standing in front of him had no idea how much he controlled Izaya's life. Izaya himself didn't know how much Shizuo controlled his life, not until now, when he realized the mess he was in and how badly he had fallen apart.

Shizuo gritted his teeth, and anger replaced concern in the creases of his forehead. The fuck was so funny? He felt like a fool, coming all the way here. Why did he bother, anyways? There was no way he could actually be worried about this bastard. Izaya didn't care for anyone; Shizuo knew from the very beginning. So what was he doing now?

"The hell are you laughing about?" Shizuo said, his eyes never leaving Izaya's frame. In spite of himself, Shizuo noticed just how thin those shoulders were, now that the informant only wore the black t-shirt without his fur-trimmed coat. Shizuo briefly noted that the coat created the illusion that Izaya was larger than he actually was, and even then, the raven was small. How very "Izaya" that was—even his appearance hid the real person underneath everything. Shizuo wondered how he hadn't noticed before, but that led to the question of why he noticed now.

Izaya's laughter abruptly halted, a gasp of pain cutting the breath from his mouth. His fingers clenched tightly into a fist, and he doubled over, falling to the floor. Shizuo's eyes widened, his jaw dropping open as he rushed to the informant's side and righted him in his arms.

"The fuck? Hey! What are you doing?"

Shizuo was about to shake the small man in his arms, and he frowned when he remembered in time that that was not the best choice of action. He spoke too loudly, but there was no redoing that. Izaya seemed to be asleep, but his eyes were clenched tight, and he looked like he was in pain. Shizuo had no idea what to do. Who falls asleep in the middle of laughing? Or did he really fall asleep?

No matter who it was, this wasn't normal, was it? Shizuo glanced down at Izaya again, and he really didn't think that could be considered "sleeping." So, did he faint? Why would Izaya faint like that? Shizuo had no answer. It was the only logical conclusion, though, and Shizuo had not the slightest clue what to do with a fainted person. Was he supposed to let them sleep it out?

Unless, Shizuo remembered, unless that Shiki-whoever had poisoned him at that restaurant. Given that Izaya probably had all enemies and no friends, Shizuo wouldn't be surprised. Then again, wouldn't Izaya have been poisoned a long time ago? So shouldn't he be more cautious than that? Shizuo could never guess what twisted shit was going through that annoying tick's mind.

As Shizuo racked his brain and paralyzed himself with an onslaught of questions, Izaya stirred. He felt his head continue to throb to the pulse of his pumping heart, a horrible, fast-paced ba-bump that pounded through his head and he winced. It hurt like a bitch. He didn't know what happened and where he was, but he didn't suspect anything and believed that he was in his room or on the couch and had woken up with a splitting headache, like he was prone to do in the past few days. He slowly pried opened his eyes as he groaned, trying to push himself upright, only to realize that he wasn't quite lying down. His eyes snapped open and his hand reached for his flickblade, but he wasn't wearing his jacket so his hand met air and he struggled to get away as his panic heightened.

Izaya couldn't hear the shouted words nor did he recognize Shizuo's voice, but he knew he wasn't alone and his instinct was to run.

Shizuo grasped onto Izaya's wrists tightly, but the nimble informant pried one arm free and was desperately reaching for any type of support. Shizuo wrangled him and locked him on the floor, holding him down with his weight. Shizuo had never caught Izaya before in their chases, and having to immobile him now proved a surprising challenge. It shouldn't have been, seeing as Izaya was strong and agile. His stature deceived easily. Underneath Shizuo, Izaya was still struggling.

"Fle—I…zaya," Shizuo said. His voice sounded calmer than he expected. "Izaya, calm down." The raven didn't seem to hear, so Shizuo repeated himself, louder, and he gripped those wrists more tightly. "Izaya, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Slowly, Shizuo's words seemed to go through. Izaya stopped struggling and his brows creased in confusion. Relief washed through Shizuo, and he had no time to question it.

Shizuo repeated himself.

"Izaya, it's me. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Why Izaya would feel safe with _him, _Shizuo wouldn't know, but the words came out on their own. His mouth seemed to know what to say, but Shizuo had no idea if he was right at all.

"Izaya, it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Can you hear me?"

Izaya didn't move, but Shizuo didn't care too much for the answer. As long as Izaya wasn't struggling, then Shizuo could get him off the floor more easily, especially if he didn't want to break some bones accidentally. He wondered what exactly just happened, but he had no time to question it when he still had to bring Izaya back inside. Slowly, he slipped off Izaya's back and loosened his grip, and immediately Izaya wrenched his arms away and jumped a good distance into the shadows of his apartment.

Shizuo thought he heard a hushed curse, and a thud, as Izaya fell onto his knees and clenched his head. Shizuo couldn't see him clearly, only his silhouette, but Shizuo was at a lost. What was going on?

"Izaya," he called into the flat.

Shizuo's voice pulled Izaya into reality somewhat, and he lifted his head slightly to the light of the doorway. Shizuo was standing there, looking straight at him, and Izaya was confused. What was Shizuo doing here? What just happened?

His other arm shot up to his head and he let out a muffled shout as his head hurt the worse it ever did. He couldn't think, he couldn't move, he couldn't protect himself. What a pathetic sight this definitely was, and he couldn't even slam the door in Shizuo's face so that he couldn't see Izaya like this.

Shizuo heard the cry of pain and he could see Izaya on the floor with his head in his hands, but Shizuo didn't move. He couldn't move. What was he supposed to do? He hadn't the slightest idea what to do. His mind returned a blank.

He had never seen anyone in such a state. He _had _beaten numerous ruffians and debtors until they were bloodied with quite a few broken bones, but he hadn't stayed long enough to care about their wellbeing. Even when he did, they were too far gone to show the pain.

Shizuo, with his unusual body, wasn't quite the one to know what physical pain was.

So now, seeing Izaya in such a state, Shizuo was at a lost at what to do. He could simply turn around and leave, but a nagging feeling in his chest warned him that he would never live it down if he did.

He took steady steps towards Izaya, and even though he could see the informant tense, Shizuo continued until he kneeled on one leg across from him. "Don't worry; I'm not gonna hurt you." How many times have he said that already? Shizuo raised his palms in a gesture of peace, but Izaya stilled eyed him skeptically.

"What…do you want?"

To say the least, Shizuo was shocked at Izaya's voice. While it usually held a lilting quality and a smug tone, right now it sounded hoarse and clipped. In all the years Shizuo had known him, Izaya had never sounded like this. He had never sounded so…human.

"I want to know what's going on."

After Izaya regarded him for a brief second, he said, "Nothing."

"Don't fucking screw with me."

"I meant nothing of your business."

Shizuo glared. This little shit really had the nerve to act like that at a time like this? "It's my fucking business if I decide it is."

It was Izaya's turn to narrow his eyes. He didn't reply; he didn't have the strength to. All he wanted to do was curl on the floor right there and sleep, so he could forget everything and not care about anything. Why was it that he had to care about Shizuo and whatever he did?

Neither of them backed down, and Shizuo was the first to burst. "God damn it, Izaya, why do you have to be so fucking difficult all the time?"

"It's fun."

Well, that was a reply Shizuo wasn't exactly expecting. "Fun? Are you still caring about _fun _at a time like this? Is falling on the ground like a potato sack _fun_ for you, too?"

Izaya opted not to reply again, and Shizuo wondered angrily if he was messing with him, or if he was hiding something. It could very well be both.

Standing up, Izaya said, "Please take your leave now, Shizu-chan. It's quite late. Shouldn't you have been home a few hours ago? Your dear fiancée must be worried sick."

Izaya avoided Shizuo's eyes, and the blond thought he heard bitterness in Izaya's tone. He stood, too, but he didn't move to leave. He watched as Izaya turned and (tried to) walk to his room, or somewere, Shizuo didn't know, but he didn't find out as Izaya wobbled and his knees gave out under him. The raven reached for his couch's backrest to steady himself.

Yeah, Shizuo scoffed in his mind, you're perfectly fine and dandy. He stepped over to Izaya and pulled him up, disregarding the loud curses thrown at him and the feeble struggle to break free. He easily lifted Izaya off the ground and dumped him on the couch.

"Sit the fuck down." He looked down at Izaya, determined not to back down, and slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He could tell that Izaya was angry, furious, actually. The Izaya that Shizuo was used to seeing had control over his expressions and his demeanor, so the blatant hatred in Izaya's eyes at the moment was a raw and obvious indicator of just how livid the informant was.

"Why do you care, Shizuo?" Izaya bit out after an angry, short intake of breath.

Shizuo blinked, caught off guard with the question. He repeated the question to himself, and he wondered why, as well. Didn't he hate Izaya? Hadn't he sworn many times already that he'd kill the man? Yes. Yes, he did and he had. He also found Izaya in the alleyway. He also saw him bloodied, dirtied, sullied. He also carried him back to Shinjuku. Why had he done _those _things? Was he trying to be a good and noble soul who'd save anyone from harm? No, Shizuo didn't believe that. Then what was he doing?

Shizuo realized that Izaya had said his actual name.

"I don't know."

Izaya was taken aback. He expected Shizuo to shout and demand an answer, complete with the _it doesn't matter why _spiel. Shizuo just always had to surprise Izaya. With his brute strength, his unpredictable actions, his sudden engagement. Izaya never saw any of those coming. Stupidly, he had been convinced that Shizuo would never marry.

Izaya let out a scoff. "You don't know, Shizu-chan?" He decided to take on his condescending façade again. "How can you not know, hm?"

He saw Shizuo clench his fists, and the corner of his lip tugged upward slightly. Now, if he can rile up Shizuo, he'll be able to direct the focus elsewhere. He didn't need Shizuo to know anything. He didn't want Shizuo to act like this towards him anymore. It was annoying. Why did he decide to pretend like he cared now? And worst of all, Izaya knew he wasn't pretending. Shizuo never faked anything.

Izaya heard Shizuo take a deep breath, and then he said, "We're not gonna do this your way. Stop twisting words and speak like a normal person." He sat down opposite of Izaya and waited. He was not going to let himself lose his cool.

Izaya stared blankly for a second, his mind unable to churn as quickly tonight as it used to. He couldn't think of a way to get himself out of this with words, since Shizuo was too thick-headed to understand. He didn't know how to twist the situation.

A disgusting taste rushed up Izaya's throat and he gagged. Shit. He ignored Shizuo and hurried to the bathroom on unstable feet. He fell over the toilet and retched, the minimal food he ate earlier coming back up and out of his mouth. He heard Shizuo coming to the door, which he had carelessly swatted close, and he suspected in the back of his mind that it wasn't shut. He gagged again, with no more half-digested food surging back from his stomach, and his throat felt raw and tasted absolutely horrid. He gasped for breath, watching the water swirl away the pinkish-orange mess through blurred, watery eyes. He felt disgusting. His mouth tasted wretched. He smelled like sewage, too. Reaching for the sink, Izaya pulled himself up with much effort and hung his head over the sunken marble.

After catching his breath, Izaya rinsed his mouth, still ignoring Shizuo behind him, and lifted his head to meet his reflection. He looked a mess. He _was _a mess. Part of Shizuo's reflection was visible in the mirror, and Izaya saw that he was staring at his reddened eyes and flushed face. Izaya splashed some water on his face, trying to calm down, and turned to Shizuo with a smirk. "Had fun watching that?"

The brief expression—which Izaya refused to suspect as worry—in Shizuo's eyes quickly changed into a flash of anger. "Are you still trying to say you're okay?"

Shizuo didn't know what else to say. Suddenly collapsing, throwing up, and who knows what else? He refused to believe that there was nothing more to those things, and he refused to let Izaya brush it off. The unsettling feeling in his gut returned and he had to get rid of it—by getting to the bottom of this.

Izaya narrowed his eyes. "Why do you insist that there's something wrong?"

"You fucking _threw up! _What part of that is fine?"

Shizuo didn't know what he expected, but he realized that Izaya was much, much more difficult than he ever cared to notice.

Izaya waved him off. "I merely ate some food that my stomach doesn't agree to."

"There's more to that."

"No," Izaya met his eyes, "there isn't. Now, Shizu-chan, did you plan on staying overnight without taking my life, or would you kindly let me rest?"

Judging from the tensing of Shizuo's hands, Izaya supposed that the blond hadn't thought that far. He probably thought he could somehow pry the answer he wanted from Izaya and be done with it. Ah, what a shame.

"I'm not letting you go for this," Shizuo said.

"Of course not," Izaya sighed in mock agreement.

After he ushered Shizuo out, Izaya ran a tired hand through his hand and grimaced.

Shizuo came back the day after. Then the next day, and the next, for the following weeks. At first, Izaya took to staying away from his office, but then Shizuo would come looking for him. It was an entirely different chase then. While Shizuo still chased him relentlessly, it was unlike before, when Shizuo would charge at him with the intent to murder; the blond pursued him with the full purpose of actually catching him. The notion bothered Izaya, and he took to hiding instead of flamboyantly dangling himself in front of the unpredictable fuse.

Then Shizuo decided to wait at his door until he returned, often silently fuming as he stared at Izaya a lengths away. Izaya had tried to run, not understanding why Shizuo bothered to seek him out actively now.

"_What _do you want from me so desperately, Shizu-chan?" Izaya shouted on the top of his lungs as he jumped across roof tops.

"An answer, you flea!"

Shizuo had followed him relentlessly, and Izaya wondered why it seemed like Shizuo spent every free minute of his life searching for Izaya. Didn't he have better things to do?

But wasn't that what Izaya wanted? Yes, it was, but not like this. Shizuo didn't have to know; he didn't have to know anything about him. Izaya didn't want him to know. His life was boring, and everyone was boring. That was why he enjoyed creating havoc; he held control. He hated that he had no control over his own life, no matter how he tried. So he decided to control others.

* * *

><p>Shizuo had asked Tom about the symptoms once. He mulled over why someone would lose consciousness like that, coupled with the puking.<p>

"Pregnancy. That's the first thing that comes to mind."

Pregnancy? Shizuo raised his brows. There was no way. Izaya's a man. He couldn't get pregnant. Unless…unless he was actually a girl? Shizuo grimaced at the idea. No, that would be unpleasant. It wasn't far-fetched, though…that guy was small enough to be one, and especially with his pale face, Shizuo wouldn't be surprised…wait, wait, what was he thinking? Izaya could not be a woman.

"Uh, Shizuo, it's not my position to ask, but, Vorona isn't pregnant is she?"

Shizuo lifted his head. What did Tom just ask? Vorona?

"Why would Vorona be pregnant?"

Tom stared at Shizuo's confused expression for a second, then sighed. "No, never mind what I said."

Shizuo did, and they walked in silence. Was that the only thing, though? Pregnancy? If it wasn't pregnancy, then what was going on with Izaya?

"Is that the only thing?" Shizuo asked.

"What?"

"Is there anything besides being pregnant?"

"Hmm," Tom hummed. "Possibly a concussion. You're not hurt, are you?"

A concussion, huh… Shizuo frowned. That sounded more like it. "It's probably a concussion, then." He wasn't looking at Tom; rather, he had forgotten he was speaking to Tom, who was now staring at him with a mix of worry and astonishment. Shizuo, hurt, and with a _concussion?_

"Shizuo, did you go to the hospital?"

"Huh?"

"Your concussion."

Shizuo blinked, not understanding for a moment.

"No, Tom, it's not me." Shizuo considered something, and asked, "How much work do we have today?"

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

_._

_To be continued..._

_[Thank you for sticking with me for so long! I'm sorry for my laziness.]_


End file.
